It’s time to…
“Gezoran welcomes you to Drown Yer Mates!” The squid, as always, has taken up residence as the referee. It rubs its tentacles together in anticipation of inflated tabs. “Gezora will briefly remind you of the rules. The last one upright is the winner. That is all.”
And with that, the squid rings a little bell on the bartop, purloined from the Fight Yer Mates arena, and the match begins. On cue, Patrick O’Batahan and his Punching Posse begin their first song.
Then Optimus and Zephyrus take their cubes and down them with no hesitation, followed by Jaxx Tantra, who smirks at the robots as he sets the empty cube down. It’s on. Eddie follows suit with his own cube, although he splutters as the fuel-like substance burns his throat. Erebus takes his own time in drinking his, but he does not feel the effects as badly as Eddie does, merely wiping his mouth and staring at the cube with interest. This leaves the humans to attempt to drink the Energon. The tension builds far faster than it should be doing at the start of a contest. The bookies begin to recalculate their odds. One of the two humans has been pegged to win, and if she falls now…
Ilsaria takes her cube, hesitates, and then downs it. She coughs like an asthmatic kicked in the throat by a horse, but she stays upright.
The tension becomes taut. Optimus stares, worried that his signature drink might be too much for Sarah. Eddie crosses his fingers under the table. Jaxx smirks. The bookies become vultures.
Sarah picks up her cube.
An indrawn breath, somewhere in the bar.
She sips.
She drops the cube, gasping. The energy does not – cannot – spill, but it burns her throat and mouth badly.
There is only so much bullshit a bar can take, and Sarah's demise is bullshit of the highest order.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Instantly, the other competitors, sans Jaxx, leap to their feet, but their cries of concern are lost amongst the rage of the crowd, who begin to attack each other with various implements and broken bottles. The bookies retreat and begin to recalculate again, cogitators whirring in disbelief. Patrick’s bat band strikes up another tune.
“Hah!” Jaxx smirks and leans back, putting his feet on the table. “Told you the stupid girl couldn’t handle it. Who else wants a fucking shot, huh?”
Eddie, Optimus and Erebus sit back down, making individual mental notes to kill the Sentinel later. Ilsaria glares. Zephyrus spins his fan in agitation and worry. The crowd settles after Gezora reaches in and eats a few spectators, and orders those standing to reseat themselves.
The next few drinks pass without much event. They are simple Earth cocktails, and the remaining challengers have no problems getting through them, even Ilsaria, who seems determined to beat Jaxx on Sarah’s behalf. However, by the time the first water break comes up, the contenders are all equally tipsy. This is less noticeable in Erebus and Eddie, but Ilsaira is starting to giggle, and Optimus is rambling about a long and terrible battle back on Cybertron, pausing only to talk about how Pool Robot is his little guy and isn’t he cute?
The next drink, however, brings their focus back. It is a Pond of Black Tears, perfected by Eddie Riggs to remind him of the deadly waters of his home. The rose petals float like rat corpses. It does not look like a healthy drink, and even Jaxx sniffs at it before downing it in concert with the rest. It does taste a bit odd…
“GEZORA WOULD LIKE TO WHISPER A SECRET TO YOU. GEZORA REPLACED THE WATER IN THIS DRINK WITH WATER FROM THE SEA OF BLACK TEARS.”
Eddie violently spit takes.
“What the fuck, dude?”
But it’s too late. The competitors are hit with the colossal sorrow of the maiden Aetulia, who was captured and used to lure the Fire Beast to his doom. Jaxx stares into space, pale faced and obviously disturbed into something resembling morality. Ilsaria’s head hits the table as she begins to weep for her brother, despite the fact that he is standing in the crowd right behind her. Zephyrus begins to spark violently, smoke issuing from his fan. Eddie, thanks to his half-demon heritage, survives the worst and merely loses his chirpy outlook on life, muttering “Aw, man, I don’t even like Heavy Metal anymore.”
But Optimus and Erebus are the most affected.
“Gezora apologises,” mumbles the squid as he produces a new drink, “but this is a high-octane contest, or so Gezora believes. Gezora did not mean to cause such distress.”
The next drink is a pick-me-up. A modified Happy Ending, it has been infused with some Christmas Cheer, a drop of Joy and maybe some Excitement. The competitors, in desperate need of some happiness right now, desperately chug the drink.
The effect is quite violent, and it is not helped by the band’s next song.
Ilsaria, meanwhile, has draped herself over Zephyrus’ shoulder, and is violently flirting with the robot, unaware that he is staring into space as if he has found life’s meaning in the grain of the walls of the tavern. Jaxx, meanwhile, is singing the entirety of Mad-onna’s “Murderline”, including the keyboard and drums. It’s as if an a capella version of the song is pouring from his mouth. The crowd laugh and cheer at the bizarre performance in front of them.
“Gezora is glad to see the bar back on its feet again!” The squid burbles happily as it brings the next drink. A series of brown bottles are placed in front of the competitors, and the mind-numbing scent of Old Janx Spirit wafts from their open tops.
“Oh, fugg no,” complains Jaxx, “I’m not drinkin’ tha’ shit! Tha’ shit’s like a fuggin’ ball an’ chain fer th’ mind!”
“Jaxx will drink the drink,” retorts the squid, “or Gezora will get refereeing. And by that, Gezora means eating.”
Jaxx grumbles, but drinks it anyway. Eddie downs it, and then continues his rant, segueing into how much of a “fuggin’ ‘tard tha’ Elmo is, GOD, it’s like he’sh a kid, swear tah Gawd…”
Ilsaria also downs hers.
“Whoo!” she cries. “Tha’sh shum shtrong shtuff! Hey, Ze- Zeff- Zeffy! Ha, Zeffy! Were d’ya go?”
“Zeffy” has fallen into a sitting position on the floor, staring at the ceiling in wonder. The bottle of Janx Spirit is being held loosely in his hand, but he hasn’t drunk any yet. His inerbrated circuits have malfunctioned, and he is currently playing Super Rob. Bros – The Lost Levels in his head, projecting it on the ceiling for him to see. He is not doing well.
“Wow,” he whispers loudly, “if only I had Item 2, then this level would be so much easier…”
He downs the bottle.
Unfortunately, robots are not built to drink Old Janx Spirit. Zephyrus instantly hits sleep mode with a loud hum and a clatter of metal limbs as he topples backwards. The Nomad Bookies nod in satisfaction.
And then Gezora remembers that it just served the vodka-spiked batch of water.
Oops.
Ilsaria downs her water, and notices that she is sitting between two very strong, burly men. A lewd smile crosses her face, and she arches her back in a stretch. The crowd crows its approval, and Gezora reaches out and confiscates a camera from a purple ninja.
“Heeeyyy, boooyyysss,” she drawls.
Eddie and Jaxx glance at each other over her head. Some of the more genre-savvy bargoers begin to groan and facepalm. Gezora checks the barrel, making sure it hasn’t accidently served them just vodka. But it’s too late to stop the drunken antics. No-one wants to stop them anyway – drunken antics are always best when there are two super powered people involved.
It’s time to IMPRESS YER MATES!
ILSARIA, GRAB MY BICEP
“That’sh nuffin’,” boasts Jaxx, wobbling to his feet, “watch thish!” The Sentinel turns and thows a Sonic Punch at the bar door, the airwaves punching a neat hole in the front and sending splinters flying everywhere. A few bargoers are tossed aside by the shockwaves, and this causes a few more punch-ups out of sheer aggression and drunkenness.
“Gezora always wanted a peephole,” admits the kaiju, bringing a new drink to the table. This time, the drink is a Tentacle Mojito, and all three grip the little tentacle between their teeth and drain the drink through that. Ilsaria seems a little more enthusiastic than the other two in her manner of drinking, and the crowd hoots and hollers as she makes a satisfied noise and polishes it off.
“Woooow,” she groans, and wipes around her mouth with her fingers.
“Goo-hoo-hoo-hoo,” is Eddie’s response, dangling the tentacle between thumb and forefinger and staring at it. Jaxx merely leers, but the alcohol is making his vision blurry and as such it looks like he is staring at her ear.
The next drink, however, is a little too strong. In celebration of the Cola Wars, two Black Presidents have been made, one with Croak and one with Pep. Both are to be drunk if the round is to proceed. The moment they are placed down, Ilsaria grabs both and throws them down her throat, getting a considerable quantity of the drinks down her top. Eddie and Jaxx try to do the same, but in the end they have to settle for one at a time.
“Ooh, coloursh!” Ilsaria stares at the ceiling, trying to understand why it’s so loud. Eddie begins to sing Iron Maiden’s “Aces High” in a key that isn’t recognised by any musician in existence. Jaxx tries to summon a model solar system in the palm of his hand, but the Janx is a harsh mistress, and he can only manage the sun and the first four planets, all coloured bright pink and in hula skirts. A sudden thought occurs to the monster hunter.
“Heeey, it’sh hot in here,” she says, fumbling for her armour clasps. “I’mma jusht gonna…”
But before anyone can reach for the PG Establishment sign, she topples off her seat and lies on the floor, giggling like a lunatic.
It’s down to two. The crowd, as one, hushes. The bookies click and whirr, forgetting their impartial nature to become absorbed in the crowd. O’Batahan signals for quiet, and his band instantly cease playing. Gezora reverently places two glasses on the table.
Finishers.
The two take the drinks simultaneously.
Silence.
Eddie glares at Jaxx, who smirks back at him.
They both down their drinks.
OH SHIT
NEITHER OF THEM IS GOING DOWN
“Yer a fuggin’ jerk, y-yah know tha’?” spits Eddie.
“Yeah, wha’evvur,” sniffs Jax. “Yer all a buncha do-gooderrsh, anyway. Y’all need t’ wake up ‘n’ shmell th’ fuggin’ coffee.”
“Yer need tah get yer ‘ead out ya ass!”
“Tha’ a challenge, Roadie?”
“Tha’s an ord’r, yah bashtard!”
Jaxx stands up and hurls a ball of cataclysmic energy at the same time Eddie pulls out his guitar and plays a power chord.
There is a blinding flash of light.
“Oh, sorry, Gezora accidently bumped the dimmer switch. Give Gezora one moment.”
The lights dim…
Both competitors are on the floor. They appear to be out cold. There is a timid pause, and then Gezora reaches out and checks the pulse of both men.
However, he is in no condition to celebrate, and soon he will be feeling even worse. The riot, which had only paused, resumes and intensifies as a horde of drunken louts and bargoers descend upon the unconscious superhuman and proceed to beat the shit out of him. A man is thrown out of a window. Someone picks up the PG Establishment sign and begins to lash out with it. Jonesy stands on a table and delivers kicks to the chins of anyone who looks at her funny. Sarah lets loose with a Holy that fries a few people. The Nomad Bookies leave rapidly, counting their earnings and marking the area for Money Spiders to arrive later in order to collect from those who have bet physical objects and failed to deliver. Meat Boy and Widow Maker bounce off the walls.
Gezora sighs wistfully and folds its tentacles at it surveys the carnage. It’s been a while since there was a good riot in the bar. He indicates to the band with a tentacle, and Patrick O’Batahan, severely wishing to be somewhere else, begins to play the last song as the squid picks up a club and sets to work...
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