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mechtober-2024 · 2 months ago

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Mechtober day 31/alternate prompt-tragedy

Happy Halloween to all those that celebrate, and happy Thursday to all those that don't!! May your day be filled with fun and spookiness!

@mechtober-2024

Sing To Me, O Great Atrophy - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

Tw; gore, murder, gun violence, some minor dismemberment, disappearances, violence, character death, temporary character death, mass murder, body horror. blood, violence getting shot to death, there's absolutely something I forgot so please let me know what to add!!

---

There was a strange man. No one was sure where he’d come from, no one was sure how long he’d been there.

One day he wasn’t there, and one day he was.

He was a strange man.

All he ever did was play his violin, or maybe a mandolin, and wander around with no apparent purpose. Once in a while he’d ask if he could have room and board in return for playing one of his instruments. He never asked for food, only smirked and said music was enough for him. And after a day or a week, he’d disappear in the middle of the night, carrying with him the strange songs on the wind.

No one knew his name, no one knew if he even really was a man or if he was something else–a woman or laying somewhere in between. When asked, if you managed to get him to sit still long enough, he simply shrugged and gave that playful smirk. Whatever’s easiest, I’m not one to judge, he’d say. I’d never really thought too deeply about it. Feel free to call me whatever works best. So most people just called him the strange man. The songs he played were strange, and he claimed that they told stories of the things he and his friends had witnessed.

One day, at a bar where he was drinking and humming quietly to himself, he’d explained to a few people who were willing to listen– “I’d decided to take a moment away from their chaos. I love them, but it’s so easy to get Lost around them. So I needed somewhere quiet, and your lovely little planetoid had such a lovely and quiet Song to it. It drew me in. And here I am, now. Thank you, for having me.” And then he returned to playing a soft, romantic tune on his mandolin. Cinder’s Song, he’d called it. A song of lost love.

There was a strange man.

No one was sure where he’d come from, and no one was sure how long he’d been there.

He’d been wandering around for, perhaps, years. It must’ve only been a few months, really, but no one was sure how long he’d been around, so it could’ve been years.

He had a metal arm and distant eyes, always looking off into the distance with an odd look.

He played loudly and strangely, as if along to a symphony only he could hear.

He asked if he could play his music to people, expecting nothing in return.

He just wanted to play a song for them. Just a single song.

Most people agreed, and let him play.

He’d pull his violin from nowhere, and start to play.

And no one ever heard from those he played for ever again.

Did he ever really have an audience?

Still, he went around and played for anyone who was willing to listen.

There was a strange man. He’d been there for hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades. He did not die, and he only played strange music, his violin’s songs haunting any who heard it for days on end before they disappeared. He didn’t stop wandering, never stopped playing, as he moved from town to town to town. Even as his flesh fingers bled and blistered, even as his feet broke from the endless walking, even as he was injured by the rare few brave folks attempting to stop his music. He only ever continued playing and wandering endlessly. No one let him in, no one listened when he arrived to play anymore. But the music echoing from his violin was growing louder, and louder, and louder.

His music left people tearing at their hair and tearing out their hair and ripping their skin, screaming and crying as they begged for the noise to stop.

The music only ever continued. It only ever got louder, and louder, and louder.

One day, he finally collapsed from exhaustion, breathing slow and ragged, and a few brave people from the town he was in at the time sought to put an end to the Noise once and for all.

They approached, guns at the ready and any other item they could use as a weapon on hand.

The person at the head of the small mob stared down at the prone form of the strange man, who was just staring at nothing in the sky.

The leader shakily took their gun, aiming it at him. He simply grinned, eyes snapping clear and resolute as the two locked eyes with each other.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you. You might make it louder. And it’s already so Loud.” The strange man didn’t blink, as he stared at the leader’s shaking hands. “That’s why you think you’ve got to do this, don’t you? Try to kill me for a moment of peace. Peace is frail, peace is a lie. Dying never quiets anything. Do you hear it? The death knells have begun, and it’s singing for something much greater than me. I’m just a string, a chord in Its voice box. I would imagine It would get very angry at having a string cut–most musicians don’t like their instruments being touched by another. Though you know that, too, don’t you? What is it you play?” They didn’t respond, and the strange man just sighed. “Well, don’t draw this out any longer. If you ask me, I’d say avoid the arm at least. It doesn’t like being damaged.”

The leader fired three shots into the strange man's chest, two into his head, and two into his right, metal arm, effectively severing it from his body.

He didn’t scream, he didn’t yell, he showed no indication of pain. Just smiled, as his eyes fogged over and the pallor of death took him.

And that was the end, they’d all thought with relief. That was the end. They’d be free of his haunting music.

That’s what they thought. That’s what they hoped.

But that is not what happened. It’s never what happened, is it?

It’s never that easy. It’s never that easy.

The now-corpse was dead, and everyone started to head back towards their homes, planning on leaving the corpse out for the carreon and rot. And then the corpse, of all things for a corpse to do, started humming.

Everyone turned back, to see the corpse. And they watched, in sheer terror, as the corpse started healing. The strange corpse’s humming echoed, louder than it should’ve been, as his bones cracked and repaired themselves. The bullet wounds through his body sealed themselves, and the mechanical arm made a sickening scrrreeeeeeeechhh, as it rewired itself into the body of the strange man. It could’ve taken only a few minutes, or maybe a few hours, but no one there dared to move or speak as the man regenerated. His humming stopped, all of a sudden, and his eyes cleared. He looked towards the party, eyes a little sad, a little disappointed, and he sighed heavily as blood dripped down his forehead as the wounds closed.

“I did try to warn you.”

His eyes glazed over, and he was holding a violin again. He started playing, something different. It was loud, chaotic, and it filled everyone around him with a bone-deep terror. Something was coming. Something was coming and there was no way to stop it.

And then the pandemonium started.

Breathe in the air

The last of its kind

The strange man stood as he started playing, and off in the distance, screaming started. The small mob abandoned the strange man, hearing their loved ones scream and shriek– in pain, or in terror, who’s to say anymore.

Feel the sun on your skin

Let it sink in

Clouds began rolling in, the sky growing darker, darker, darker still. People in the streets were writhing on the ground or clawing at themselves. Blood dripped from their ears, as people screamed their throats hoarse. Some people dug at the dirt, raking their nails through the grass and flowers as if it would offer some kind of relief.

We don’t have much time

Lightning crashed, and its thunder echoed like a drumbeat. The wind howled, high and piercing like a delicately carved flute, and in their homes people were reacting in many different ways to the noise and the renaissance of mayhem. People were throwing and breaking things, clawing at their eyes or their ears to try and quiet the Noise surrounding them.

There was no way to block out the Noise, to silence it, no matter how hard people tried.

Fawning, panting

Wondering when this will end

So many people were screaming that it sounded more like one homogenous, echoing note. People’s throats started to bleed, the liquid ichor flooding their mouths and dribbling out as they shrieked endlessly, and people were trying to tear their ears off in order to quiet the constant Noise.

Starving, hunting

Can’t tell my prey from my friend

Some people, in their desperate attempts to stop the noise, went for the throats of the people around them. Choking, slicing, stabbing, whatever to stop the Noise. Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked. The Noise never stopped, its symphony needed to be played, after all. It needed to be heard, and it was going to be heard at all costs.

Tearing, rending

The strange man walked through the town, as the screaming people tore each other to pieces. He seemed untouched by the madness, untouched by the violence. A few people went after him, tried to tear his violin from his hands, but as they tried their flesh boiled and melted off the bones, and their voice was pulled from them in screaming terror, singing a horrified Song that matched the unsteady and overwhelming tempo of the strange man. Words that made no sense, in no language any of them knew were pulled, bloody and painfully, from their throats, and they fell to the ground at the strange man’s feet. The strange man just continued meandering around the bleeding village, with no apparent destination.

Feasting, hunting

He did pause, at one person who was seemingly equally immune, clutching the corpse of someone that had torn their own heart out of their chest. The person looked up at him, tears and blood on their face as they stared angrily at him. “Why? Why did you do this?”

Tearing, rending

The strange man just smiled, a confused look on his face. “I’m not doing anything,” the man said, his voice echoing and overlapping as if he spoke with all the voices of those around him, “I’m simply the Voice for the thing that is causing this. The Eternal Symphony just wants to be heard.”

Feasting, hunting

And then the distant look returned, and the strange man walked away, leaving nothing but chaos and destruction in his wake.

Can’t tell my prey from my friend

(“Oi, you finally back? The fuck did you go?”

“Oh, you know, I was just taking a vacation. You know how it is.”

“Well, welcome back. Are you doing alright?”

“Thank you my dear drumbot! And yes, I’m doing quite fantastic! I hope you didn’t miss me all too much.”

“In your dreams, von Raum.”

“Fuck you.”

“It’s nice to see you again, by any means.”

“There is a forty-seven point-three percent chance that everyone missed you to some degree, rounded down.”

“Oh, how you all wound me! Well, no point dwelling, I suppose.”

“How was your trip, Marius?”

“Oh, rather boring, honestly. It was nice and quiet, though! Exactly what I needed. Anyway, I’ve had my fill of Quiet, so let’s head on to the next adventure!”

“You never cease to confuse me, von Raum.”

“I think that’s the idea! Sound isn’t consistent, after all!”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Well-”

“…Did you have to shoot him, Jonny?”

“He’d get going on another fuckin’ tangent and we don’t have that kinda time. Let’s get going, shall we?”)

#what a great way to finish mechtober #rude Jonny!#tw gore #tw blood #tw body horror #tw dismemberment #tw injury #tw gun violence #tw murder #tw mass murder #mechtober #mechtober 2024 #marius von raum #the mechanisms #the mechs #fanfic #fanfiction #bonus prompt tragedy

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mechtober-2024 · 3 months ago

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Mechtober prompt 29/day 29-crossover

this one is going to turn into a longfic at some point as well, bc I just think its silly and i love doing crossovers they drive me insane

@mechtober-2024

Mechanical Bats - Reality666Rift999 - The Mechanisms (Band) [Archive of Our Own]

tw; cursing, mentioned murder, mentioned vehicular manslaughter, mentioned physical assault, mentioned crimes, probably more, let me know what I should add!

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“Cass!” Steph called, causing the black-haired woman to turn towards her. “Where are you going? Tim was gonna drag us all to that show thing?”

“Oh,” Cassandra hummed. “That was tonight?’

“Yep!” Stephanie replied, popping the ‘p’.

Cassandra nodded, taking a moment to think. “I will be there, I’m meeting someone. A friend. I will– hm… They will be there, too.”

“Ah, okay, okay. Be safe? And punch ‘em in the gut if they do anything!”

“They will not. …Would probably enjoy it, too… Hm.” Cass waved, and turned, leaving Stephanie confused in the manor’s foyer as Cass left Wayne Manor.

Stephanie sighed, shaking her head, before turning and heading back further into the manor.

—--

“Good morning my dearest Gunpowder!” Marius grinned as he sat down in his plush seat. This asylum really knew how to treat their doctors!

Tim, on the other hand, looked about ready to blow the place up–which, to be fair, was their normal. They sighed dramatically, sitting upside down on the plastic chair.

“Oh, Marius. I’ve smuggled in only about fifteen pounds of plastic explosives, I’ve found answers to all that Nygma guys’ riddles and he’s run out of things to ask, how do you think? I’m bored! There aren’t even any octokittens around to keep me entertained! This place is so boring!”

“You’ve been here for a week, Gunpowder…”

“And I’m bored! Which crime even was it that got me sent here? There’s at least a dozen to pick from!”

“Uh…” Marius looked through the folder he’d been given. “Aggravated assault and first degree vehicular manslaughter! Damn, they didn’t even pick any of the good ones.”

Tim groaned loudly. “This is stupid! This place is boring! And clearly they don’t give a shit, they hired you of all people!”

“I am perfectly qualified, thank you very much! They do seem to be quite severely understaffed for the amount of criminals here, though.”

“Exactly! We should just break out of here, use those fifteen pounds of explosives and ditch this place to get back to having some fun.”

“Oh!” Marius clapped his hands. “Funny enough, that reminds me! We’re doing a show tonight at Calypso’s, you want to come? If I help you, you won’t even need to worry about using up your explosives just yet, I’ll smuggle some guns in later! The security is tight but, well, has that ever stopped us?”

“Yeah, well, you can just summon things from fuckin’ nowhere, so I think you’re an outlier.”

“Well it’s not like I can do that on purpose, that just kind of happens! A surprise, really, that they haven’t thrown me in here with the others because of my violin thing, actually.”

“My guess? They can’t because you don’t have a known criminal record.”

“So far! The game is young, we got here what, a month ago? Much to do! Many crimes to commit! And there’s superheroes, that’s gonna be fun to fuck around with. I think Jonny’s planning to start a war already!”

“Of course he is! It’s Jonny, mate doesn’t know how to do jack shit that doesn’t involve violence and bloodshed.”

“Well… yeah, it is Jonny. He’s violent and chaotic and that’s how we like him!”

“Hm. Usually. Anyway, concert tonight?”

“Right! It’s at about, uh… What kind of clock do they use around here again?”

“Twenty-four hours, generally.”

“Right! So then the concert’s at about 19:30 tonight, so I’ll come break you out around 17:45?”

“Amazing!” Gunpowder clapped excitedly. “Finally some kind of fun!”

“Of course! Now,” Marius grinned, “on to the therapy session!”

Gunpowder stared at Marius, mechanical eyes whirring as they zoomed in and out. “Don’t do this to me, Mari. Please.”

“Well it’s what I was hired to do~” Marius’s grin widened. “So, where were we last session?”

“Ugh…”

—--

Calypso’s was a new bar and grill that seemed to spring up from nowhere, swiftly gaining popularity for its declaration of being a ‘Neutral Zone’, good drinks, and live music. Particularly, the live music.

The music was always performed by an indie band that similarly appeared out of nowhere. With their surprise arrival on the scene, they quickly gained popularity alongside the bar. Their songs were violent and cruel, speaking of endless death and destruction and war as if they were the greatest thrills one could seek. The bassist owned and ran the bar, and the band performed at other small, local bars and venues whenever Calypso’s itself was closed. Overall, besides the violence and bloodshed in their songs, they were largely unassuming.

Except for the fact that the guitarist was arrested and sentenced to five years in Arkham for driving into and killing a pedestrian before beating someone half to death with an unlit scented candle, the bassist was clearly making some kind of name for themself in the criminal underground based on the hushed whispers heard around the city, and Tim was utterly transfixed by them.

Bruce Wayne did not like them, their music was loud, bloody, and confusing and they were almost definitely all criminals. But, Tim liked them, and was dragging everyone to Calypso’s to see the band perform, and Bruce wanted more than anything to support his kids. And that’s how he found himself being dragged to Calypso’s at six in the evening, Tim talking excitedly to Steph while Jason and Dick argued about something. Probably a book, Bruce had stopped paying attention to them a while ago.

Barbara would’ve come, but she didn’t want to and had elected to have a quiet night in the Clock Tower, watching over Gotham in case of an emergency.

Either way, Bruce was using this as a perfect time to properly investigate the band running the bar. Going as Batman would only raise suspicions of the bar owners, show that he was on to whatever it was they were doing under the table; it was risky, and gathering intel would be harder to do if he had to fight off whatever security force worked for the bar.

But when Tim had invited the whole family out to see the band, well. That made things significantly easier.

Entering the bar, the first thing Bruce noticed was the smell. There was, naturally, the thick stench of alcohol wafting through the air, the thick scent of cigarette smoke, but it smelt… A lot more clean. Of all the bars he’d been to, as Batman or as Bruce Wayne, it was probably the one that smelt the nicest and the cleanest.

He wasn’t sure if that was weird or not, but he still noted it.

They weren’t very far into the building when Cassandra walked up to them, waving with a small smile. Stephanie grinned excitedly. “So, where’s your friend?” was the first thing Steph asked. Bruce sighed. Cass didn’t seem phased, though, and simply offered a small smile.

“They will be here,” she said, nodding. “C’mon, I’ve got us a table.”

Tim fell into step with Cass quickly, the two leading the way through the bar while the rest of them followed.

“This is going to be so cool,” Tim said, grinning and snapping his fingers. Cass nodded, that small smile still on her lips.

“It’s going to be very fun.”

“I wonder what they’re going to play? I’ve got a few ideas…” Tim continued to ramble, Cass nodding along while leading them to the booth she’d picked out. Bruce bit his tongue, and let them talk about the band in peace. (Tim rarely smiled so brightly anymore, still a bit upset about Damian’s arrival– he deserved a few things to smile about.)

Bruce surveyed the other patrons, keeping an eye out for anyone familiar or any of his typical rogues. Bruce didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary, and sat down. The booth had a nearly perfect view of the stage, which seemed to be in the process of being set up. There was a booth ahead of them that was closer, but no one was sitting in it yet. There were several menus placed around the table, and Bruce decided to survey it. There were a lot of strange items, ones that he wouldn’t have expected to see at a dingy, brand new bar-and-grill that just popped up. Alongside the standard items– cheeseburgers, nachos, fried pickles, and beer– there were things like steak, old, well-aged wine, and baked alaskas. It was… odd.

“So…” Dick said, tapping his fingers along the table, “you’ve talked a bit about this band, but what exactly are we signing up for?”

Tim just grinned. “Oh you’ll see.”

Dick just rolled his eyes. Bruce glanced around at the other patrons again, and at the stage. A few people had gathered on it. They appeared to be talking about something. One of the people on the stage was tall, wearing a long, pinstriped trench coat, while one of the others was fidgeting with one of the microphone wires in a brown leather vest, and a white shirt, and the other was very stiff and wooden in their movements, wearing a uniform that Bruce assumed was some kind of military uniform that he just wasn’t familiar with. Other than their outfits, nothing stuck out about them as odd, and so Bruce turned away.

Jason was demanding something from Tim, probably more of an explanation, while Steph stared intensely at the menu as if she wasn’t going to order the nachos, like she always did when at a new place that served them. Dick was also observing the menu with intensity, while Cass watched the stage with interest.

“You can’t just bring us here with no explanations and expect us to sit idly by!” Jason proclaimed.

“I can, and I did,” Tim replied. “Besides, out of everyone, I think you’ll like their songs the most. Maybe they’ll appeal to Dick’s inner theatre kid–”

“Hey!”

“–but I think they’ll appeal to you a lot. There’s a lot of bloodshed!”

“I don’t only like violence,” Jason wrinkled his nose. “I don’t even necessarily like violence. It’s just that it’s useful sometimes.”

“Well, there’s a lot of classic literature drawn from, in their songs, too. There.”

Jason looked like he wanted to hop across the table and strangle Tim, but he refrained, which Bruce was thankful for. A waiter stopped by, and asked if they were ready to order something.

Everyone simply got water or sweet tea to drink, and Steph ordered the extra-spicy nachos, Dick got a double-patty cheeseburger, and Cass got mac-and-cheese. The waiter took their orders with a sure nod, and disappeared off somewhere else. Everything was going smoothly, so far. It was calm, and there wasn’t anything odd going on around them. It put Bruce on edge– when everything was too calm, too nice. Something had to go wrong, soon.

Bruce glanced at the stage, and saw several more people having gathered, tuning instruments and getting set up for the show. As he looked over the stage, one of the people up there–the bassist, he assumed from the instrument across their shoulders–glanced at him, directly in his eyes, and grinned. It was only for a moment, but it sent chills down Bruce’s spine, and Bruce tore his eyes away.

Cass turned back to the others, and announced, “The show’s starting soon.”

Tim jumped and turned towards the stage, grinning excitedly.

As everyone’s attention drifted towards the stage, the person in the brown leather vest grabbed a microphone, saying into it, “Test, test. Our audio working alright?” The sound echoed throughout the bar, but it didn’t break or crack in any way. Bruce followed the person’s eyes towards a booth towards the center of the room, where someone was seemingly working their audio. They gave a thumbs up, and the one in the vest turned to the one in the probably-a-military-uniform. “Toy Soldier, test that mic for us.”

“Will do, Old Chap!” The stiff one saluted, and leaned into the microphone to sing a couple of scales.

The band continued doing a few tests, until they were satisfied that everything was working and sounded alright. With those out of the way, the one at the microphone in the center-front stage, nodded and started talking again.

“Right, well, I must say– welcome one and all! Returning patrons and new faces alike! I’m sure you know the drill by now!” They gestured to one of the string players, who started playing a vibrant and energetic tune that was quickly joined in on by the rest of the band.

And with that, they started singing.

“Like whiskey laced with gasoline, We’re deadly when we’re drunk

So shut your face and settle down, You sneering little punk!

‘Cause space is vast, You are small, It’s black and bitter cold

The book is lying open,

There are tales to be told!”

The seemingly lead-singer was grinning wildly, as he sang.

“The fire is burning lower and the Stars are shining bright

We’ve stories grim as pistol lead to tell to you tonight!

So grab yourself a mug of beer, gin or vodka, hold it near

The book is lying open,

There are tales to be told!”

Tim and Cass were clapping along, as was most of the bar.

“Killers, renegades, liars and thieves!” The lead singer called out, “Welcome! For those of you unfamiliar, we are the Mechanisms! The Crew of the Starship Aurora, roaming through the universe in search of adventure, seeking fun, enjoying a good spot of violence here and there, and looking, most of all, for a good story. But also, mostly the violence.” They shrugged and grinned. “Let me introduce to you my Crew! First off, we have Drumbot Brian, our ship’s pilot and–naturally–our drummer!” There was a cheer from the crowd, and the person in a top hat with brass-painted– painted? From where Bruce was sitting, he almost couldn’t tell if Drumbot Brian had face paint on or if he was actually made of brass– smiled and waved, grinning. “There’s Raphaella la Cognizi, our keys player and resident science officer!” The one behind the keyboard jumped slightly, and smiled widely, waving as her mechanical wings fluttered. “And of course, our ship’s quote-un-quote ‘doctor’, Baron Marius von Raum on violin! He’s neither a baron, nor a doctor.” One of the violinists grinned and waved with a black, metal hand, before returning to playing. “My dumbass sister, on viola, Nastya Rasputina!” The woman on the viola flipped the lead singer off, adjusted her glasses, and returned to her playing as well. The crowd still cheered, though. “Our beloved and be-loathed archivist, Ivy Alexandria, on just a truly unfathomable amount of instruments.” The redhead waved, a small smile on their face.

“On harp and lyre, our Navigator Lyfrassir Edda!” The dark skinned person sitting next to a decent sized harp waved as well, their silver hair glowing slightly iridescent under the light, looking at them directly for too long left colorful dark-spots in Bruce’s vision and gave him a headache. And returning from the shortest hiatus ever, our Master-at-Arms and guitarist, Gunpowder Tim makes her daring return!” There was an uproarious cheer throughout the bar, and Gunpowder Tim smiled, giving small bows around the room with a wild grin. Her presence caught Bruce’s eye, as she was the one that was supposed to be in Arkham for manslaughter. He had to make a note to call Gordon, to check on the asylum and make sure no one else had broken out once they were done here… “The Toy Soldier is… here, for some reason, to sing and play the glockenspiel and mandolin. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it.” Jonny gestured to the stiff one, who waved excitedly.

“I’m just happy to be involved here!” The Toy Soldier declared.

“Yes, we’re aware. And of course, everyone give a warm, warm welcome, to our host, the owner of this here bar, our dearest quartermaster and bassist, Ashes O’Reilly!” There was another cheer, and the bassist grinned, though they didn’t react much more than that. “And lastly, though never the least, there’s myself! Your humble narrator, Jonny d’Ville, captain of our amazing starship!”

And then, as if it was some kind of cue that Bruce didn’t get, several people in the bar (including Cass and Tim) and on the stage yelled out, “First Mate!”

Jonny d’Ville sighed dramatically, but there was a subtle smirk on his face. “Really, I should expect this by now, no one ever respects my authority.”

“You don’t really have any,” Ashes said, “here in my bar. Technically.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

They let the music play for a moment, before Jonny began singing again.

The show continued on for a while, playing an album that Tim had excitedly called ‘Once Upon a Time (in Space)’, that didn’t last nearly as long as Bruce was expecting. It was a retelling of several classic fairy tales, set in a sci-fi, war-torn world. And while Bruce definitely wouldn’t call it anything he found particularly interesting, the story was good and the atmosphere was strangely warm. (It was a bonus that Cass and Tim were getting so excited and clapping or cheering along to the music, that they enjoyed it so much.) Their food arrived shortly after the first song, ‘Tales to be Told’, according to Cass, and it was surprisingly good. Especially for a new bar run by someone who didn’t seem to exist a few weeks ago. As the concert wore on and ended, there was a loud cheer, and the band started to put things away.

Ashes put their bass away, and Bruce watched as the possibly-metal man approached them. They had a conversation, before Drumbot Brian rolled his eyes and bowed slightly to them (despite being nearly a foot and a half taller than them), before walking away, and then Ashes turned around and locked eyes with Bruce again, grinning.

They walked over, and Cass grinned as they approached. Tim’s eyes widened, when he saw them approaching. Ashes leaned on the pillar that their booth was attached to, grinning a bit at Cassandra.

“Hey, Cassie,” they said, surveying the table, “so this the surprise you mentioned earlier?”

Cass nodded. “Lucky coincidence,” she said. “I forgot they were coming tonight.”

“Ah.” Ashes grinned. Steph swung her head wildly between the two of them, from Ashes to Cass and back to the bassist.

“Cass? Your friend is the fucking owner?!” Steph asked.

Cass grinned and nodded.

“Yep,” Ashes said, grinning and slipping one of their hands into their pockets. “Ashes O’Reilly, owner of Calypso’s, and a friend of Cassie’s. They/them pronouns, preferably. Nice to meet you all.” Ashes offered a hand to everyone, Tim was still shell shocked, but everyone else was mostly able to shake their hand. Ashes offered their hand to Bruce, and he hesitated, before gripping their hand tightly. Their hand was almost uncomfortably warm.

“Bruce Wayne,” Bruce replied, “nice to meet you as well.”

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