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Bad Day for Las Vegas

Well... s**t. That was about how it summed up, Vegas thought as he stared down at the dying minipet in his bed. Overdramatic, much? His son was pissed off at him, he thought with a sigh as he summoned his dagger and finished the poor thing off. He was sure, had it been a human world animal, it would have been a head left on the pillow or something.

Austin was a pain in the a** when he was really angry. Vegas wondered, mildly, if Roch knew just how crazy his dad could get when pissed. Then again, the old reaper thought with a sigh, his grandkid probably took after him.

“Vegas?” Monica called hesitantly from downstairs. “Vegas, there’s something you need to see.”

“It’s fine, darklin, I just pissed my kid off again,” he yelled as he got out of the bed and headed for the closet to get some clothes.

“But he completely destroyed the place! How did we sleep through this?” she called, coming up the stairs.

“The kid’s a grim reaper,” Vegas said, pulling his pants on. He needed a smoke. Badly. He could already picture what Austin had done to his beloved casino in his mind, but he was positive it was worse than he was picturing. “And since he can’t kick my a** directly, he hits me other places. Did you check the safe?”

“The safe?” she asked.

“It’s probably empty.” He sighed, wondering if he could get a loan from Chank. No, that would be downright suicidal, and he had one full grown reaper out for his blood and a second... “Darklin, have you heard from Roch lately?”

“He called asking for food just the other day!” she said. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“He didn’t ask to talk to me, did he,” Vegas said, pulling a cigar out of his pack and lighting it up with the tiniest hint of a shake in his hand. s**t, s**t, s**t, he should have seen this coming--neither of them held a grudge against Monica, but--

“Well, no, but he usually doesn’t?” she said.

“Did he even mention me?”

“No, not really,” she said.

“Did he sound mad?”

“No, of course not! He’s my little Rochy! Rochy is always nice to me,” she said proudly. “He’s such a good boil,” she bragged happily, clearly enamored of the brat. He didn’t actually have a problem with that, she saw the kid as hers, which meant she did all the s**t he should do, but didn’t bother to. But...

“Darklin, call in Bruno and get him workin’ on fixing the place up,” he said, sighing. “Tell him I’ll pay him for it as soon as I’ve done a few things. But... well, hell, I might have to go back to the human world for a bit. Do a bit of actual work,” he said, shaking his head. “AFTER I go visit the kid.”

“You’re going to see Rochy Can I go? I’ve ALWAYS wanted to see his room! Does he have enough chairs? Is it comfortable? Oh, I should go shopping before we go!!”

“Not this time, Darklin,” Vegas said. “You’ll have to wait to see it until after I’ve dealt with this problem.” He pulled on a dress shirt and buttoned it up, sighing as he headed for the door. He paused at her side, leaning down and touching her cheek. “Don’t worry, darklin, I just need to talk to them a bit.”

And possibly fight, he thought with a hint of amusement as he headed down the stairs.
***

Roch wasn’t even thinking of his dad or granddad. In fact, with all the scarentines bull that had happened right after the reaper school incident, he had forgotten about it almost entirely. Well, other than a few chats over HIM with the guys there. Aaron and he had plans to hang out next weekend at the maul. But other than that, it was something that was better off left in the past, as far as he was concerned.

The punk boil was lounging out on the campus grounds, draped improperly over one of the benches, his guitar in his hands. He was playing a song, more to cheer himself up than anything else, but it was easy to find the punk boil, for anyone looking. So far, though, people had only smiled or rolled their eyes as they walked past, used to the sight of Roch playing wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

It was only when the sun was blocked entirely that he looked up, cocking his head slightly at the gigantic man standing over him. “Yo, Granddad,” he said, stopping playing. “Sup?”

“How pissed off at me are you?” Vegas asked, fingering his cigar as he looked down at the boil. “Because I get the feeling you’ll be the easier one to deal with, so you go first.”

“What?” Roch asked blankly. “You mean puttin’ me in that jackin’ hellhole of a school? Where they stuck me in a room where I couldn’t use my guitar, and tried to shave off my hawk, and broke my nose?”

“...... Yeah,” Vegas said blandly. He hadn’t heard about the broken nose.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Roch said, an evil look on his face. “I’m pretty pissed off, man. Like, really, really pissed,” he said as he stood. Jack he was tiny compared to this guy, he thought, staring at his chest for a moment before looking up to stare the big man in the eyes. “You got a TON of work to do to make it up to me! We’re talking money, and your bike, and--“

Vegas was expressionless, his huge arms crossing over his chest as he watched the boil. “You’ve already forgotten about it, haven’t you?” he said finally.

“What?” Roch said. “Course I haven’t forgotten! You d**k, it’s all YOUR fault I was in there to begin with!”

“Fine. You can have it for the weekend--AFTER you get your license,” Vegas said.

“YES!” Roch said, bouncing up and down in a victory dance. “This is gonna be AWESOME!”

“AFTER you get your license,” Vegas repeated. “But hell, I don’t want to go back to the casino right now, anyway, your dad’s on the warpath.”

“Really? Wha’d he do?” Roch asked.

“I’d rather not say,” Vegas said. “C’mon, let’s go to the DMV.”
*******

It was probably the closest to Roch’s image of Hell that he’d ever see, Roch thought as they stepped into the dark, gloomy building. Chairs, plastic and uncomfortable, were chained together in lines, while monsters and demons and other species stood in lines so long that they looked like they would turn on themselves and devour. The look of boredom on the peoples’ faces was the same, regardless of what species they were, mixed with irritation and frustration.

It smelled. The scent of decay mixed with loathing, with a hint of urine, which Roch didn’t want to think too deeply on, lingered in the air. And the fact that they got dirty looks as soon as they walked in from the women behind the counters added to the lovely atmosphere. “Sir! Sir there is NO SMOKING in this building!” a skeleton snapped at them, tapping on the huge, tattered looking sign next to her cubby hole of a counter.

“Oh, right,” Vegas said, holding his cigar loosely between his fingers as he looked for a place to put it out at. “You got an ash tray?”

He was greeted with outraged expressions. “I’ll just... go outside. Get in line, boil,” he told Roch.

“Which line?” Roch asked even as the old reaper left, not bothering to answer. “Great.” He looked around, wondering who he should ask, but as soon as Vegas stepped out of the building the people behind the counters seemed to forget that the boil existed--if they had even noticed before. He looked at the people, all of who were NOT looking at him.

So he looked at the signs above the booths, eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to figure out just what in the hell they meant. He stared. And stared. And looked up as a huge hand dropped on his shoulder, almost jumping.

“Well? You ain’t moved,” Vegas said before pushing him to the right, to the end of one of the lines.

“What IS this place, Granddad?” Roch asked, moving a bit awkwardly, because he still had no clue what he was doing.

“This is the DMV,” Vegas said. “Demon’s Motors and Vehicles, where the bastards have cornered the market on transportation and turned it into a hellish drudgery of convoluted payments and paperwork, just so you can go places.”

A few of the people in the line in front of them grunted in agreement. Roch caught a few dirty looks from the people at the counter, but he figured he should have seen that coming. Vegas seemed the type to piss off authority just by breathing. “So I’m gonna get my license here?” he asked.

“Hopefully. You’ll have to take a test outside, but hell, we taught you everything you need to know--except,” he moved forward, getting several dark looks from the others in the line, and grabbed a book, bringing it back. “Read and memorize this.”

Roch grunted as it was handed to him, almost falling over with the weight. “Memorize it?” he repeated. “Jack damn thing weighs twenty pounds!” he said. “How the hell am I going to memorize it all?”

“NEXT!” the lady at the counter said.

They moved one step forward.

“I think you’ve got time,” Vegas drawled.

((WC 1,601))

Fully Charged

Being stuck between the two reapers that were glaring at each other over his head was a bit awkward. But, well, he HAD spent an entire week with the two, so it wasn’t that unfamiliar. “Hey,” he said abruptly, “why the hell ain’t I as tall as you two?” he demanded. “Was my ma just really jackin’ short?”

“You’re sixteen,” Vegas said, leaning back in the chair that he dwarfed and spreading his legs out he took up most of the area in front of them. “You hit seventeen or eighteen you’ll shoot up to your old man’s height, but the broadness... hell, if you take after this skinny jacker, you might never get any of that,” Vegas drawled.

“Just because you’re a lardass doesn’t mean the rest of us need to be,” Austin said.

“Rochester England Scythe? Please come this way,” a small ice demon said, stepping out of a back room. Roch glanced up, then looked at the rest of his family, a frown on his face.

“If you two get me tossed out of here before I get my license, I ain’t talkin’ to you EVER AGAIN,” he warned them. “I already got plans for this weekend!”

The two stared at each other then nodded reluctantly. Satisfied, or close enough, Roch followed the demon, his hands in his pockets, only glancing back at the two once before he headed into the small classroom. They were staring at each other, still, and he sighed, hoping the test would be quick.

“Take a test and a seat, please,” the demon said, motioning to the pile of tests and the hellish looking electric chairs that they were supposed to sit on. He looked at them a bit hesitantly as he picked up a sheet and a pencil.

“Those things... do they actually work?” he asked her.

“They are fully charged,” she said. “I make sure of it.”

“Oh... kaaay,” Roch said slowly. “What for?”

“We’ve found that a bit of a jolt can help encourage thought,” the demon said, her expression bland. “If you would, please,” she added, motioning to the chairs.

“I have an ice demon for a friend,” he said. “I’m pretty sure she’s got a really powerful family, so if I were you I wouldn’t--“

“Sit. DOWN. Mr. Scythe,” she said coldly.

He sat down. He stared at the test. Then he read each question three times before answering them, just in case.

Others came in, taking a test and sitting down in the chairs around his. He jerked as one of the skeleton kids let out a scream, his bones shaking wildly for a second before calming down. “Oh, NOW I remember!” the skeleton proclaimed happily.

Roch turned in his test.
***

Waiting. That seemed to be all he did. He’d been stuck in the waiting room with Austin and Vegas again, and somehow, amazingly, he had fallen asleep while waiting for one of the people to tell him if he’d passed or not. His head was leaning against Austin’s arm, drool trickling down his chin and dropping on Austin’s leather trench.

“He fell asleep,” Vegas said with amusement.

“It’s boring,” Austin said, not moving. He did look down at the drool and rolled his eyes, though. “Can’t really blame him. But give you odds he aced his test.”

“Sure he did. Unlike that charred skeleton kid, he was smart enough to notice the chairs,” Vegas drawled, his hands folded over his stomach, his eyes following a cute little ghoul as she herded small children into a seat. Mothers, he thought with a wicked smile, he rather liked mothers.

“You realize she’s married, don’t you,” Austin said. “And that Monica is waiting for you to get back home.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t look,” Vegas said shamelessly. “How about you? Last I heard that ghoul you used to have a thing for back in high school was divorced.”

“What ghoul?” Austin asked. “I have no jackin’ idea what you’re talking about.”

“Malone’s little ghoul,” Vegas said. “The witch ghoul... what was her name...”

“Morticia.”

“That’s right. Little Ticia.”

“I never had a thing for Ticia, you’re imagining things,” Austin said blandly.

“She’s got a daughter. Cute little thing. Malone keeps shoving pictures of her in my face whenever he comes by for a game. Looks to be about three.”

Roch was silent, not moving even though he wanted to wipe the drool off. This sort of information could be very, very important to a guy, after all.

“When did she get divorced?” Austin asked after a long moment of silence.

“Hah! I knew it! You ain’t THAT blind,” Vegas crowed. “It was what, a few months ago?” he said, frowning slightly. “She’s been havin’ a bit of trouble getting back on her feet, according to Malone. She specialized in love charms, and hell, ain’t really possible to make love charms when you’re going through a divorce.”

“There’s other charms she can make,” Austin said. “Kid, I know you’re awake so stop pretending.”

Roch sat up, wiping the drool off of his chin and onto his father’s coat. “Who’s Ticia?” he asked.

“Well...” Vegas said, thoughtfully. “She’s sort of Austin’s... Xiu,” he finally said.

“How the hell would you know what she is or isn’t to me?” Austin asked irritably. “Don’t listen to him, Roch, she’s just a ghoul I went to school with, way, way back in the day.”

“Rochester England Scythe?” a strict looking ghost woman said, jerking Roch back to the situation at hand. “Follow me. You brought a bike to take the test with, correct?”

Roch’s brain was itching so hard that he could barely nod. The tiny woman looked sharp and angry, her hair in a perfect bun atop her head, a cane in her hand that he was positive that she didn’t need--

Screwed. He was completely and utterly screwed, he thought as his granddad pulled him out of his seat and shoved him forward. He would NEVER get his license if she was the one giving the test.

((WC: 1,009))