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Roch's dad appeared at the edge of the wooden stage they were standing on, motioning the lead singer to come down. "Can't," he said simply. The single word was picked up on the mic, much to the interest of the viewers.

"Sure you can! You can't tell me you don't got it on you, man!" the lead singer said.

"My kid's in the audience," Austin said. Roch turned three shades of red at that statement and started backing up.

"Yeah? Then he'll want to see this, right?"

"I can't, because every time I play the little b*****d falls asleep," Austin drawled. Every single person in the crowd started laughing, looking for the little boy that would do such a thing.

"That d**k," Roch muttered, glowering at his dad as the man jumped onto the stage.

"Well maybe this won't do it," the reaper said, holding out a hand as if he was shaking with someone. The FEAR was far stronger and faster to take form than Roch's guitar. A strange, larger version of the saxophone that he had seen earlier was in his dad's hands.

Roch didn't say a word. He didn't look as red, though, not with that serious expression on his face. He had just learned something important. Even his bass to acoustic trick wasn't new.

"Jackdammit," he muttered angrily as his father started to play. The drummer and the guitarist of the band quickly picked up the beat, adding to it. And Roch didn't look as if he was about to fall asleep at all.

The music stopped and the crowd cheered, only to stop as the lead singer asked a question. "Hey, your kid, he's like you right? Some sort of musical reaper? He any good?"

"Yeah, he's good," Austin said. "He's better than your guitarist."

"Dude, that's harsh, he's what, thirteen? Matt's been playin' since high school!"

"Roch's been playin' since he learned how to walk."

Roch muttered something dark, turning a bit red again. "C'mon, screechie, let's--"

"I'll take that challenge," the guitarist said into his mic.

"Roch? You named your kid Roch?" the lead singer asked, looking confused.

"Yeah, I named my kid Roch," Austin said.

"Think he's chickened out?" the guitarist asked, staring into the crowd. "What's he look like--wait, your kid plays the guitar?"

"I ain't chickened out," Roch bellowed from the crowd, obviously pissed off by that comment. The crowd parted for him, wanting to see who this reaper boil was. "I'll take you on."

"Man, you sure about this?" The leader asked the guitarist. "He IS Austin's kid."

"I can take 'im," the guitarist said, his grip on his guitar tightening. "He looks what, fifteen? Hell, he still falls asleep at his daddy's playing."

"Oh, you're goin' down," Roch said as he gently put the baku on the stage and pressed up with one hand, pulling himself up. "It ain't my fault the old man's playing is so damn slow," he added evilly, getting a dirty look from Austin.

Austin crouched down next to the little baku, looking at her with a slight grin. "You seem to know him well enough, what do you think?" he asked quietly before looking over at his son. "Bring your A game, boil, and I might raise your allowance."

"Kiss my a**, old man, I never bring anything BUT," Roch replied, holding up a fist and summoning his guitar. But then, to his surprise, the band swarmed over to him.

"Dude, look at the detail!"

"That is a gorgeous lookin' scythe," another said.

"No, that's a gorgeous lookin' guitar!" the guitarist said. "Check out the fretboard--"

Roch gave them all a dirty look. Stroking his ego was NOT going to calm him down, he thought as he started to play. The others backed off, leaving the two guitarists to their duel.

Roch had an evil little grin on his face as he finished up the competition, bringing it home with a flourish. But the smile turned kinder. "Hey, don't worry," he said to the guitarist, who'd just been standing there. "I can't beat my teacher--wait, so that just means you're third rate instead of second!"

"Austin, your kid's an a**," the guitarist drawled. "Can I beat him?"

"If you can't beat his guitar, then you got no right to beat him," Austin said, still crouching as he tapped out a cighoulette and lit up.

"Face it, man, you just got owned," the lead singer said, shaking his head and patting the guitarist on the back. "But hell, he's a Scythe. Born and bred," he added, looking at the two males on the stage. "Damn, he looks EXACTLY like you did at that age," he added to Austin. "Who's his mother?"

"I'm leaving," Roch said, looking around for the baku. Austin might have been crouched down next to her, but he'd been ignoring her since the duel had begun. "Screechie, you ready?"