Chapter CLVI: Happy Hour ~Multehx

On Caelum, in the mean time, things were going pretty much the usual. Gossip of some great ditz of another world who offed some of their less advanced demon brethren spread among the citizens of the capital, heroes boldly saved damsels from dastardly fiends, and the bartenders of the land kept their clientele nice and wasted.

Well, most tried to. One wasn’t having such luck. He just happened to be on duty when a group of Twilighters wandered in. They seemed of varying ages and of either gender, and were sort of dirty as they had been working on building something they said. The bartender had taken their orders; all of very potent demon drinks, the Cyanide-Sulfur twist, a few Arsenic malts with a dash of bleach, and the older fellow of the group had a Chlorine chaser, or a ‘double C’ as it was listed.

All were very potent drinks which were reserved only for the unhuman clients as they had quite fatal results on the mortal man’s weak stomach, and when he asked how they would pay, it turned out they were regulars here, as they directed him to put it on the tab of their organization. Seems they were some group or order or the like. They sat there, drinking their drinks, and discussing who destroyed what…well, all the bartender could hear was something that sounded like “Weapok”. It could have just been the older demon’s accent, but who knew.

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Fanah sighed in relaxation and turned on her stool, leaning an arm out on either side of her on the bar as she leaned on it.

“I tell ya guys, it took a dose of the special perfume, you know, the one that drives the human men crazy, to get in there.” She chuckled to herself. “Course, the place was loaded, so I left with a nice and strong residue.”

An orange-skinned demon on her left snickered and idly tossed a pair of dice in his hand. “Well, it wasn’t any easier for me! Rolled a one, and, as I threw out the second one, we both watched tensely till it settled on a six.”

The pink demoness grinned. “Whew, that’s a hard number to recover from, that ‘one’ is.” She turned to her right. “How ‘bout you, Nictem?” she asked. Nictem wasn’t even facing her. He was turned towards a pretty young demoness on the stool next to him. He chuckled at something, then remarked, smiling slickly the whole time, “Yes, yes, I really did do something that dangerous. No lie.”

Fanah slapped her forehead, muttering something and turning to another female at the other end of the bar to her left. “How about you, dear?”

Jadea sat down her drink (perfectly square on her coaster, not getting a drop on the bar) and looked over. “Well, I was in a heated debate at one of the universities on one of these local planets, and I luckily managed to pull off a stunning rebuttal and win the entire thing, getting a collection of antique weapons as reward.” She grinned slyly. “Of course, there were some of the ‘desired targets’ in the mix. I simply pawned off the rest and destroyed those few for their power.” She returned to sipping her drink.

Orson looked up from where he was sitting in a booth, with Vole on his left and Rebdok and Malachai seated on the opposite side. “Well, I suppose I shall recall my little venture as well.,” he began, closing his eyes as he recollected it.

Fanah looked at Nero, mouthing, “Here we go again,” to him. The demon chuckled as Orson droned on and on. When he finished, hours later (or it seemed to be hours, with Orson’s grandfatherly nature of going on and on and on, you never really knew) Malachai excused himself from the booth, and walked over to where NecronimusII was leaning against the wall. He hadn’t said a thing the entire time they were there, just leaned against the wall with his arms folded.

“Something the matter?,” the Council leader asked.

The Infect shook his head. “No, just trying to adjust to the replacement arms. Took some time, but finally think they’re worn in.” He glanced at his solid brown arms, in contrast with his grey and navy blue armor. True, the stuff wasn’t exactly metalloy, but it was some other special metal. Ul-something it was called. It had the ability to hit what wasn’t even physically there, so that meant if that clear eyed creep or the Boss’ ghost decided to mess with him, he could take em.

By nature, the metal wasn’t the most stable thing out there, so this batch had been blended with other various metals, steels and platinums and the like until it was pretty durable an alloy. Then it had been made into his new arms. He sneered as he clenched a fist with his right hand. It just might be fun to test out these things in action, he thought.

Malachai excused himself from the group, saying that he had important business to attend to somewhere, and promptly walked out the door. Meanwhile, mostly everyone had ordered a second round.

Rebdok raised his glass, grinning. “A toast, to our victory over the inferior heroes!”

There was a unanimous shout of agreement and all raised their glasses in the toast. All had substantially increased in powers over the last few days, so they were now positive they had a strong likelihood of success…granted their foes did nothing to even the odds.