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The Devil's Nest [Friday night]

It was cold, dark, and threatening to snow, which was Eric's favorite kind of weather, which was why he was in an excellent mood as he wandered down to the Devil's Nest to make sure Tiny was manning the bar to his satisfaction.

The new DJ (it was always a new DJ) looked panicked as Eric came in, stammering something about equipment malfunctions and how very sorry he was before fleeing into the night, leaving the bar listening to "If You Like Piña Coladas" --and only that song--at a volume that was just too loud to be ignorable.

"If you make piña coladas a special tonight, I will snap your neck," Eric told Tiny flatly before disappearing to his normal seat in the VIP area.

The Devil's Nest was open. And verrrrry tired of walks in the rain already.

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"Computerized," Eric said, waving his hand over toward the DJ booth at the far end of the bar. "Don't break it worse."

Jack tipped her head and looked at the booth for a moment before sliding off the stool and cracking her neck from side to side. "This shit's antique tech for me. Don't worry, man. I won't break your toys."

A beat. "Depending how much he fucked it up, I might wanna go break the asshole who ran screaming a little."

She hooked her thumbs in her pockets and went to stroll on over to the booth.

"Oh, I get first dibs," Eric said. "I'll let him tire himself out a bit, then go after him."

Farewell, NPC DJ. You never last long.

Jack swerved for only a moment to shoulder-check Kanan on her way to the DJ rig.

"Fair. It's your bar, right?" She guessed from the things he'd said. "You can track him?"

She looked at the setup and keyed up her Omni Tool. Her left arm glowed to life and she held it over the main console and said, "Pair. Diagnostic. Find fault."

A small holographic screen hovered over her arm a moment later and began to scroll code.

"I can track him," Eric said with a little smirk.

Jack smirked back at him. "This is a bad fuckin' island to piss people off on," she noted cheerfully.

She read the code

deck 1 repeat_start "rsiBounceBack1" 33ms & has_cue 6 ?
get_time elapsed absolute 1000 & param_bigger "get_time cue6 absolute 1000" ?
hotcue 1 : nothing : var "$BBdoOCNEE" ?
nothing : set "$BBdoOnce" 1 & deck 2 repeat_start "rsiBounceBack2" 33ms & has_cue 6 ?
get_time elapsed absolute 1000 & param_bigger "get_time cue6 absolute 1000" ?
hotcue 1 : nothing : nothing

The word ""$BBdoOCNEE"" was highlighted.

"Don't know what his skills are as a DJ but the asshole sure can't spellcheck," she noted. "Typo in a macro. It was supposed to loop a few seconds of the song, maybe fade out or some shit, but now it's looping the whole damn thing forever."

She hit a button and continued reading the code. Her lips twisted in a grimace. "He cut and pasted that macro between every song. If I delete it they'll play down the list with no ..whatever this is.. between. I can fix the typo and see what that does. Which way do you want to play it?"

"Let's just delete it," Eric said. "I never want to hear this song again."

Jack lifted a shoulder and deleted the macro. She hit the 'advance' button on the console.

"If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe
I'd been married a long time ago
Where did you come from, where did you go?
Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?"

She blinked and squinted up at a speaker. "Why? Why are you like this?"

"That might be worse than the first song," Eric said, wincing.

"I'm fairly fucking sure there's a galactic law against that piece of shit song," Jack growled at the speaker. If not there should be. She hit 'advance' again.

"It's the final countdooooown.. the final countdowwwn.."

"Nope." Again.

"Blackened is the end
Winter it will send
Throwing all you see
Into obscurity.."

She paused and glanced at Eric, "Is that better or do we want to see what other crap that asshole put on here?"

Definitely killing the DJ.

"I'm definitely killing the DJ."

"I would," Jack responded with a grimace, "Do you have better music on a drive that could be synched or something or is this it?" She winced a little at a guitar part. "There's a goddamn dance floor right there. What the fuck was this fool thinking?"

"My tastes lean towards Swedish death metal, so let's see what Tiny has instead," Eric said, waving the bartender over and demanding his phone.

"Okay, a little heavy on Cher and '90s boy bands, but not terrible," he decided after inspecting Tiny's playlist.

She made a gimme with her hand. "Cher's music is still popular even in my time." Jack gave Tiny a once-over and asked pointedly, "Boy bands? My dude. Follow the lead of too-tall-to-be-real over here. Death metal, motherfucker, you can dig it."

Then she gave Eric a headtilt. "Swedish much different from Norwegian for death metal? And are we talking death metal or deathcore?" There was a difference. One made her want to punch things. The other made her want to..

We're not going there. This is a family show.

"Not terribly different from Norwegian, but I'm from Sweden...more or less...so my allegiance goes there first," Eric said.

And the idea of a vampire with really random musical tastes just amused the heck out of him. When you'd been alive for a few thousand years, you ended up with strange hobbies.

Jack took the phone and began making her Omni synch to it. Bobbed her head in a nod. "Fair enough. I'm from a colonized planet you've never heard of 150 or so years in the future and another reality entirely. Music's not the same there. It's more.. techno tranz? Electronibop? It," she said succinctly, "sucks. I like this era's music. Some of it. The angry stuff."

Because of course she did.

"And the Pina Colada song," Eric added. "Because it's now stuck in your head for the next week."

"Nope," Jack shook her head with a smirk, "One thing I'm real fucking good at is getting annoying shit right out of my head."

Her lips twisted in a small grimace, "Not that 'Blue Da Ba Dee' or whatever its fucking name is happens to be better but at least it's not about some trash bastard who can't ball up enough to talk to his partner about adding some kink to their game, goddamn."

She typed in a command and ported the song list over while absently handing Tiny back his phone. Watched the command line scroll and refresh on her Omni. "Moment of truth.." she warned and hit the button.

"Don't blow up my bar," Eric said. "No one's cashed out their tab yet."

Priorities.

Jack snorted. "It won't blow up. It might play," she checked, "Backstreet Boys? at you all night but that is on your bartender."

Thankfully it was not the Backstreet Boys. Not that Cher's 'Just Like Jesse James' was the highlight of her career.

Tiny immediately started bopping his head to the beat. "I am ashamed to know you," Eric told him.

"Verdict?" Jack asked, "Keep trying or leave it be?"

"Leave it," Eric said. "It's not about a fruity drink."

"Not her best song. Judging you a little here, Tiny, unless you just have her whole fucking catalog on there. In which case, rock right the fuck on my dude. Also? You did not get me the drink I ordered," she said pointedly to the bartender.

Hopping back out of the DJ booth, she looked way up at Eric and deadpanned 'ta da' hands at him. "And I didn't even have to blow it up."

Tiny went away to get Jack her drink. "I'm not going to thank you for not blowing up my place," Eric told her.

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