Chapter Text
Soon enough, Boombox found himself standing at the base of an enormous hotel, one hand gripping the handle of a rolling suitcase while the other adjusted the harness of the boombox slung over his shoulder.
The building stretched high into the sky, its glass exterior reflecting the morning sunlight so brightly that he had to tilt his visor down slightly just to look at it. Massive banners advertising the Phestival hung from the sides of the structure, each displaying colorful graphics of musical notes, stage lights, and the familiar Flipside logo. Even from outside, the place looked expensive.
To the disappointment of a significant portion of Playground's nightlife scene, Boombox had spent the past week cancelling performances, postponing appearances, and turning down enough gigs to make his inbox look like a battlefield. Some fans had been understanding while others had acted like he was personally responsible for ruining their month.
While he felt bad, the decision hadn't exactly been difficult. Ten million bux was ten million bux. Even setting the prize money aside, opportunities like this didn't come around very often. A month dedicated entirely to music and performing while getting paid for it sounded like the kind of thing a lot of inphernals dreamed about.
Boombox adjusted the harness on his shoulders and started toward the entrance. The moment he stepped through the front doors, he was hit by a blast of cool air and a lobby so absurdly luxurious that he nearly forgot where he was.
Flipside had really overdone themselves. Everywhere he looked, the place screamed money. Towering crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Polished marble floors reflected warm golden light from above. Massive windows overlooked a sparkling pool area outside, while expensive-looking furniture occupied nearly every corner of the room.
Tearing his attention away from the furnishings, Boombox continued toward the reception desk. Unlike last week, when he'd nearly missed an entire phight because of one particularly terrible decision involving a late-night party, he'd made absolutely sure to leave early this time. As a result, the lobby was empty when he got to the front desk, save for a few employees.
The receptionist looked up as he approached the desk and immediately brightened.
"Oh, perfect. We've been expecting you."
A few minutes later, after signing several forms and receiving a packet thick enough to qualify as a short novel, he found himself heading toward the elevators with a room key in one hand and the participant handbook held with the other. Boombox found himself flipping through the first few pages while riding the elevator.
Most of it seemed to be schedules, rules, and guidelines. Additionally, an alarming number of pages were dedicated to performance procedures.
By the time the elevator reached his floor, he'd already given up trying to read it.
Eventually, he found his room. After fumbling with his keycard for a bit, the lock clicked open. A large bed occupied the center of the room while floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked part of the city beyond. There was a sitting area in the corner, a massive television mounted on the walls, and even more expensive lighting and furniture.
Unfortunately, the luxury was fighting a losing battle against sleepiness. Boombox had been awake since before sunrise to make sure he arrived on time, and the exhaustion was finally starting to catch up with him. His shoulders felt heavy. His legs ached from travel. Even the luxurious surroundings were beginning to blur together.
Dropping onto the mattress, Boombox sank several inches into the bed. He’d intended to close his eyes for just five minutes.
The next thing he knew, sunlight was streaming across the room from a noticeably different angle, and his phone was vibrating loudly on the nightstand. The screen displayed a message from the event staff.
PHESTIVAL WELCOME BANQUET
Banquet Hall
Attendance Required
Begins in 30 Minutes
"..."
A few seconds of silence passed.
"...OH, COME ON!"
Boombox launched himself out of bed and ran to get ready.
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The hotel hallways had changed considerably since earlier that morning. Even more staff moved through the corridors carrying equipment, decorations, and carts of food and towels while groups of competitors and guests wandered toward the banquet hall. Conversations drifted through the building from every direction, blending together into a constant background murmur.
Boombox had almost reached the banquet hall when something caught his eye: a suitcase lay on its side in the middle of the hallway. Clothes were scattered everywhere. And in the center of the disaster lay Coil.
The phighter was sprawled on the floor (Peter Griffin style) beside an overturned suitcase, looking like he'd just lost a battle against gravity. Nearby, Skateboard was standing in the middle of the mess with a thousand-yard stare.
As soon as Skateboard noticed the perplexed musician, his expression transformed to one of hope.
"BOOMBOX! You gotta help us, man!"
Boombox slowly looked from Skateboard to Coil, to the suitcase on its deathbed, to a sweater hanging off of a potted plant.
"What happened here?!" Boombox asked in pure horror.
"I tripped," Coil mumbled into the carpet.
"Coil did your suitcase PHUCKING DETONATE when you tripped?! Why are there clothes everywhere?!”
"...I don't know." Coil sat himself up into a seated position.
“Whatever man, let’s just clean all of this up before we run late for the banquet."
The three of them got to work.
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A few minutes later, Boombox was in the middle of folding a shirt when somebody tapped him on the shoulder. Skateboard was standing there with the expression of someone who had discovered buried treasure.
"Dude," he whispered.
"What?"
Skateboard glanced toward Coil. Then slowly pulled something out from behind his back: a hoodie.
A giant wolf occupied the center of the design, its muscles approximately three times larger than what was physically possible, ripping its shirt off. There was a dramatic lightning effect.
Boombox read the text on the hoodie.
INPHERNAL BY CHANCE. ALPHA BY CHOICE.
A long silence followed. Boombox looked at the hoodie, then at Skateboard, then back at the hoodie. The corners of his mouth began twitching.
"No," Boombox whispered in disbelief.
"There's no way. There's actually no way." Skateboard started shaking.
Boombox read the text again, just to make sure.
"Alpha by choice?"
The two immediately folded.
"He bought this? HE ACTUALLY BOUGHT THIS WITH HIS OWN MONEY?!!"
"THERE'S NO WAY!"
"ALPHA BY CHOICE?!"
By this point they were both laughing too hard to breathe.
Naturally, this caught Coil's attention, who made his way over in confusion.
"What are you two idiots laughing abou-"
His eyes locked onto the hoodie and the color immediately drained from his face.
Coil launched himself across the hallway. "GIVE ME THAT!"
Skateboard barely managed to hold onto the hoodie before Coil ripped it out of his hands.
Coil shoved the hoodie into the suitcase with the urgency of somebody attempting to dispose of evidence.
"Banquet. Now."
“Sorry alpha,” Skateboard giggled, which caused Boombox to immediately lose it all over again.
"Please," Boombox wheezed between laughs. "Please stop."
“You're both idiots.”
“Actually unbelievable,” Skateboard said, wiping tears from his eyes. “This is the greatest thing I've ever found.”
“Think Ban Hammer would wear it?” Boombox added, earning a few chuckles from Skateboard.
Coil looked ready to throw himself out the nearest window. Fortunately for him, a chime echoed through the hallway. The hotel’s PA sounded, announcing that the main banquet was starting in 10 minutes.
“Can we please just go to the banquet?”
“Sure thing, alpha.”
“Boombox.” Coil looked at him in utter betrayal.
“Sorry.” He was not.
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Coil had eventually managed to find an employee willing to take his luggage up to his room, allowing the three phighters to continue toward the banquet.
As they approached the banquet hall entrance, the sounds of conversation grew louder. Music drifted through the open doors alongside the smell of food.
As they stepped inside, Boombox found himself impressed once again.
Waiters hurried through the crowd carrying silver trays piled high with food. Laughter and conversation echoed throughout the hall as more participants arrived. In the center stood a raised stage decorated with massive Phestival banners. A large screen was propped up on a stand on the corner of the stage, displaying the Flipside logo. Spotlights had already been positioned around it, aimed toward the empty platform, already prepared for the hosts’ eventual arrival.
A familiar voice called out from across the expansive room.
"HEY!"
The trio turned.
Slingshot was waving both arms over his head from one of the tables.
Beside him sat Vine Staff, who was slowly slipping on a drink. She politely waved upon seeing them. On the contrary, Shuriken was already working through what appeared to be his third plate of food, completely oblivious to the world around him.
"Over here!" Slingshot shouted.
The three made their way through the crowd.
As they got closer, Shuriken looked up from his meal.
"Yo."
"How long have you guys been here?" Skateboard asked.
"Like twenty minutes."
Shuriken immediately resumed eating. Vine Staff lightly elbowed him for manners.
Boombox laughed as he slid into an empty seat near the end of the table. The atmosphere around the banquet felt surprisingly relaxed. Phighters chatted across tables, staff carried trays through the crowd, and somewhere in the distance Banhammer could already be heard arguing with Scythe about something.
Then the far lights dimmed as the lights on the center stage flickered on.
Two familiar figures stepped onto the stage. Valk and Dom smiled and waved to the cameras while walking up on stage.
"Welcome everyone!" Valk called. "It’s great to finally have everyone here. We know that some of you traveled a pretty long way to get here. Before we get started, how's the food?"
The response was overwhelmingly positive. Valk waited for the room to settle again before continuing.
"In all seriousness, thank you all for being here. For years, the Phestival has been about bringing people together through music and entertainment. This year, we wanted to try something different."
"After the next three weeks," Dom said, "you're going to be performing together, competing together, and probably driving each other completely insane. But before any of that happens, we want you to enjoy yourselves."
"This banquet isn't a challenge, it is simply an opportunity for everyone to meet each other before things start getting serious," he continued.
"Now," Valk cut in.
The grin on his face grew slightly.
"Let's talk about points. If you're wondering how scoring works during the competition, don't worry," he continued. "We've made it very simple."
Three categories appeared on the screen behind Valk and Dom: performances, fan votes, and challenges.
The screen focused on the performance category.
"Performances will remain the largest source of points throughout the competition," Valk explained.
"Which is good news for the musicians, and bad news for the rest of you,” Dom added on.
"Of course," Valk continued, "not all of you are musical prodigies, so there are other ways to earn points as well."
The screen highlighted the second category.
"Throughout the Phestival, performances and other events will be broadcast across the Inpherno. Fans will be able to support their favorite teams. The more support your team receives, the more points you'll earn."
"Popularity contest," Skateboard whispered.
"Pretty much," Boombox whispered back.
The third category lit up.
"Additionally, teams can earn points through challenges."
"Over the course of the Phestival, you'll be participating in a variety of challenges between performance days," Valk continued. “They will test your creativity, teamwork, and ability to function under pressure."
"We'll reveal those challenges as the competition progresses," Dom said. "For now, all you need to know is that every challenge represents another opportunity to earn points for your team."
The screen behind them faded back to the three scoring categories.
For a moment, it looked as though the explanation was over.
Then Dom glanced sideways at Valk, who grinned back.
“Although...there is one small detail we haven't mentioned yet," Valk smirked. "While most challenges will take place during the Phestival..."
The lights behind them dimmed.
"...one of them starts right now."
The screen behind them changed again, displaying large, golden letters.
CHALLENGE #1
The entire hall erupted into confused chatter.
"What?"
"Already?"
"I haven’t even finished eating yet!"
"We figured we'd start things off with a classic." Dom said, ignoring the commotion around the banquet hall.
The title disappeared, instead changing to a single word.
CHARADES
While the phighters who did not know what charades was looked confused, the ones who did looked absolutely mortified.
While Boombox was also a little scared of the implications of playing charades in a room with literal demi-deities and hardened criminals, he couldn’t help but feel excited.
The spotlight split into three beams, each one illuminating a different section of the hall. They focused on tables marked with the three team banners.
"Find your teammates, and we’ll kick this off as soon as everyone’s ready!"
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Boombox went to his team’s assigned spot, barely having enough time to say a greeting before a bell rang somewhere near the stage.
On the large screen behind Valk and Dom, a new message appeared.
CHARADES:
ROUND ONE
"For those who have never played, each team will take turns sending one member to the front," Valk explained. "The chosen participant will then receive a prompt which they'll attempt to communicate to their teammates without speaking. The first team that guesses the word correctly in time wins a point! Every team member must go once, so pick your order carefully!"
Dom continued. “After five rounds, the team with the most points will sit with a comfortable 20 point advantage until the Phestival officially kicks off.”
“Teams, send up one participant for the first prompt!”
“Oh, oh, can I go first?” Sword bubbled.
“No one’s stopping you,” replied Rocket.
Sword practically launched himself out of his seat and sprinted up to the stage where Ban Hammer and Slingshot were also approaching from their respective groups.
Valk had the three huddle around him so he could show them the prompt on a tiny piece of paper, then sent them back to their respective teams.
“Are you ready, phighters?”
The three nodded.
“You have one minute and 30 seconds starting from…three, two, one, GO!”
The moment the timer started, Sword launched himself onto the table and spread his arms to their full span.
"SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
The entire team flinched.
Sword continued screaming. He flapped his arms, stomping across the table and pointing at the sky.
Then he threw his head back and unleashed another unholy screech that could rival Boombox in his prime.
"SKRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Boombox couldn’t believe his eyes. For a second, he considered putting Sword on vocals instead of himself and rebranding them to a death-metal band.
Hyperlaser looked genuinely concerned, even with a helmet on.
“Is…Is he having a stroke?” Rocket asked Medkit.
Medkit could only stare in horror as the swordsman continued his onslaught of screams and waves.
Across the room, Banhammer had opted for a similar approach, letting out his own roars as he attempted to flap his arms. However, under the weight of all of his armor, it ended up looking more like a fucked-up mating dance.
Slingshot however took a different route. He calmly extended his arms outward like wings before pretending to soar through the air, opening his mouth and letting out a forceful exhale.
"Dragon?" Skateboard guessed.
DING!
“Correct!” Valk announced. “A point to team one!”
"WHAT?!" Rocket shouted. "HOW?!"
Rocket turned to Sword with fire in his eyes.
“In what world is that a dragon?!”
“It’s called expression!” Sword shouted proudly.
“It’s alright, he tried his best,” Boombox said in an attempt to resolve the situation.
Medkit turned to Sword as the latter got down from the table.
“Please never do that again.”
“Send up your next competitors,” Dom announced.
Seeing as no one was willing to go next, Boombox eagerly volunteered himself. Up on the stage, he was met with Biograft and Shuriken.
Valk had them huddle around him and then opened up a slip of paper.
Sword. The prompt was Sword.
What the phuck? What kind of prompt is that?
Boombox shakily walked back to his group, awaiting the countdown. As soon as time started, he got to work.
Immediately, Boombox jumped onto the table.
"Not again," Rocket groaned.
He puffed out his chest, planted his hands on his hips, and flashed the biggest grin he could manage, pointing dramatically at absolutely nothing like he was making a heroic speech. Boombox followed it up by pretending to swing an imaginary weapon. Then he struck another ridiculously heroic pose.
"...knight?" Hyperlaser suggested.
Boombox shook his head.
Across the room, Shuriken had gone for the weapon interpretation instead of referencing the inphernal. The moment the timer started, he grabbed an imaginary hilt and began swinging wildly through the air.
"Axe?" Scythe guessed.
Shuriken shook his head.
"Spear?"
Another shake.
"Serial killer?"
Shuriken looked offended.
Biograft’s team wasn't doing much better either.
The robot had chosen to communicate exclusively through staring for some unknown reason.
“It’s…it’s just standing there,” said Coil in disbelief, “I guess your robots really are useless after all, Subspace.”
“Shut it, you filthy mutt,” snarled the scientist, then he turned his attention back to Biograft. “DO SOMETHING YOU USELESS PILE OF BOLTS!”
30 seconds left. The timer was steadily going down and none of the teams seemed to get anywhere.
Boombox was starting to run out of ideas.
He glanced sideways at his team. Think.
He raised his hands again, this time slower and more controlled. He planted his feet, squared his shoulders, and mimed gripping an invisible hilt. Then he pulled it free in one smooth motion; a clean, deliberate slash through the air.
His expression shifted to something exaggeratedly heroic. He turned slightly, as if facing an opponent only he could see and struck a final pose.
His team continued to shout out incorrect answers.
Medkit, however, had gone quiet.
His eyes narrowed slightly and then recognition crossed his face.
“…Sword,” he said.
Boombox froze mid-pose.
DING!
Valk’s voice erupted instantly. “CORRECT! POINT TO TEAM THREE!”
Rocket shot upright, high-fiving Boombox as he got down from the table. “YES!”
Sword followed instantly, throwing both arms into the air. “IT WAS ME!”
Medkit exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh but refusing to fully commit. “Unbelievable.”
“Next participants please,” Dom announced.
With a sigh, Rocket pushed himself up and walked towards the stage before anyone could say anything. He would be competing against Scythe and Skateboard.
After getting the prompt, Rocket went back to the team and waited for the timer to start.
“Three, two, one, GO!!!”
Rocket didn’t even hesitate before acting. He pointed at himself dramatically, and then at Sword.
“Is it me again?” Sword asked.
Rocket shook his head as a no, clasping his hands together like he was forming a sacred bond and did a one-person handshake.
Boombox was about to let out a guess, but was interrupted by a loud scream to his right.
Scythe had grabbed Vine Staff and yanked her into a full-force hug that looked less like affection and more like a wild boar capture. Scythe lifted her slightly off the ground like she weighed nothing. Without warning, she began aggressively patting her back in rapid, enthusiastic bursts like it was the most natural form of communication in existence.
Shuriken immediately stood up. “OI! LET MY SISTER GO!”
Scythe tightened the hug instead.
Skateboard had taken a more ‘heartwarming’ approach.
He placed a hand over his chest and pointed at Slingshot and Coil. With full sincerity, he formed a heart shape with both hands and held it up like an offering. Then, he mimed all three of them walking together in sync, like a perfectly choreographed group stroll at the end of a coming-of-age movie. To finish off his act, Skateboard wiped at an imaginary tear.
While Subspace, Slingshot, and Coil looked at him in genuine mortification, Biograft seemed to catch on.
“IT APPEARS TO BE A RETELLING OF YOUR CLOSE FRIENDSHIP WITH THE CRYSTAL CRIMINAL AND SLINGSHOT.”
DING!
Valk’s voice boomed across the banquet hall. “CORRECT! POINT TO TEAM ONE AGAIN!”
“…Wait, WHAT?!” Coil looked perplexed.
“See? My inventions are capable of far more than your limited imagination could comprehend,” Subspace smirked.
To Vine Staff’s relief, Scythe had released her from the bear hug, muttering something about “We’ll get 'em next time, darlin’”.
Rocket sat down in disappointment and pointed accusatorily at Sword.
“You of all inphernals should have gotten friendship!”
“I’m sorry!” cried Sword.
“Next round,” Dom announced, cutting off Sword’s blubbering. “Send up your competitors.”
A collective silence fell over Team One as both Hyperlaser and Medkit stood as still as possible, trying their best to avoid attention and being sent up. That was, until Sword decided to take matters into his own hands.
"You should go, Meds!" He began to push Medkit towards the stage, sealing his fate.
Medkit stared at Sword in betrayal as the latter smiled innocently.
A few moments later, Vine Staff, Medkit, and Coil had gathered around Valk. Like the previous rounds, he unfolded a small slip of paper.
Soon enough, they returned to their respective teams in collective silence.
“Three, two, one, GO!!!”
The moment the round started, Coil immediately threw himself onto the ground. The entire banquet hall jumped as the inphernal hit the floor with enough force to make people wince. Without warning, he launched into the most dramatic and intense worm anyone had ever seen.
Skateboard put his hands on his head.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"
Coil paid no mind to him and continued worming across the floor.
Vine Staff had decided to demonstrate a wildly different approach: she pointed at her own legs, and then shook her head. She then repeated the action, shaking her head harder. After that, she lifted one foot, stared at it, and dramatically pushed it back down.
Nobody on her team said anything.
"What is the meaning of this?" Katana finally asked in a tone not unlike that of a disappointed father.
Vine Staff pointed at her legs again and shook her head once more.
"Broken ankles?" suggested Shuriken.
Vine Staff looked deeply disappointed.
And then there was Medkit.
For several seconds, he simply stood there staring at his team while his dignity visibly fought for its life. Eventually, with the expression of a man being held at gunpoint, he bent his knees slightly.
And wiggled.
The team stared.
Medkit wiggled again, but nobody said anything. Finally, after apparently deciding that half-hearted embarrassment was worse than full commitment, he began aggressively swaying his shoulders and arms.
Boombox immediately lost it. Rocket and Sword also doubled over laughing. Even Hyperlaser looked stunned.
"Oh my SFOTH."
Medkit looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. Unfortunately, the timer kept ticking.
Across the room, Coil was still going. At this point he had somehow completed an entire lap around Team One's table. Still, nobody seemed even close to an answer.
"What is it?!" Slingshot shouted in exasperation.
Coil aggressively wormed faster.
"THAT DOESN'T HELP!"
Vine Staff’s situation had escalated as well. She began to dramatically gesture at the ground, not stopping her pointing and shaking.
Shuriken looked increasingly concerned.
"Centipede?"
Vine Staff looked like she was reconsidering her life choices, but opted to reluctantly lay herself down across the ground.
Scythe had a flash of realization. "Snake?"
DING!
"Correct! Team Two takes the point!" Valk announced.
Vine Staff let out a sigh of relief and immediately stood back up.
Across the room, Medkit froze halfway through another wiggle. A terrible realization settled over his face.
"You mean to tell me," he said shakily, "that I did all of that for nothing?"
"Unfortunately, yes," Sword giggled.
Medkit closed his eyes and retreated into a corner silently.
Across the banquet hall, Coil hadn’t gotten the memo that the round had ended and was instead somehow worming backwards.
"COIL!" yelled Valk.
The inphernal paused his visual massacre and looked up.
"What?!"
"THE ROUND IS OVER!"
"...Oh." The phighter remained on the floor, heat rising up to his cheeks as he just realized his grave mistake.
“Well phighters, looks like it’s time for the last round!” Dom explained, “Team One is in the lead with two points while teams Two and Three are tied at one point! If they don’t find a way to catch up, this may be a clean win for Team One!”
Boombox glanced toward the scoreboard. Their team was one point away from a tie. Not ideal, but definitely not impossible.
He nudged Hyperlaser.
"All we need is one good round. You got this!"
"You say that like it's easy. I’m not as…enthusiastic as you are," the sniper retorted.
"Come on! Imagine the comeback! We only need one round. We win this one and we're right back in it."
Hyperlaser looked toward the scoreboard again, then back toward Boombox.
"...You are annoyingly optimistic."
"Thank you!"
"That wasn't a compliment."
Before Hyperlaser could continue arguing, Valk clapped his hands together.
"Every phighter that hasn't gone yet, please come up!"
Reluctantly, Subspace, Hyperlaser, and Katana stepped up to the stage, ready to get it over with.
They returned after seeing their prompts.
“Good luck phighters! Three, two, one, GO!”
The moment the timer started, Subspace immediately got to work. Unlike some of the previous contestants, he clearly had no intention of embarrassing himself for the sake of communication.
First, he mimed lifting a glass to his mouth and taking drinks. After the fourth imaginary drink, he paused and held up four fingers, making sure his team understood the quantity was important. Once he was satisfied that point had been made, he rested his head against his hands and closed his eyes, indicating sleep.
When he "woke up," the change was immediate. His shoulders slumped. One hand pressed against his forehead while the other shielded his eyes from the imaginary sunlight overhead. He squinted, grimaced, and took an unsteady step forward as though even standing upright had become a challenge. Finally, he pointed back toward the imaginary drinks before returning his hand to his head.
"Drunk?"
Subspace shook his head.
"Alcohol poisoning?"
Subspace paused for a moment. It was at least closer than the previous guesses, but he ultimately shook his head once more.
Meanwhile, Katana had arrived at a similar strategy, though with significantly less enthusiasm. He mimed drinking, then sleeping, then waking up and immediately regretting every decision he'd ever made. After that, he pretended to chug water before doubling over and clutching his head anyway.
Banhammer watched carefully.
"Depression?"
Katana deadpanned at him.
The warden shrugged.
"You looked sad," he said pathetically.
Back at Team Three's table, Hyperlaser mimed drinking several times before gesturing downward to indicate time passing. Afterwards, he rested his head on his hands. When he sat back up, he immediately grabbed his forehead and winced. Drink. Sleep. Headache. Drink. Sleep. Headache. He repeated the sequence over and over.
Rocket squinted at him.
"Why do you keep getting injured?"
Hyperlaser visibly reconsidered his life choices.
Across the hall, Subspace had decided that his team clearly needed additional assistance. Abandoning the broader demonstration, he simplified everything down to its most basic components. He pointed toward the imaginary drinks. Then at his head. Then back to the drinks. Then back to his head. Over and over again until his team got it.
"Headache?" Slingshot offered.
Subspace immediately gave a half thumbs-up.
"Headache from drinking?"
Subspace gestured again, noticeably more enthusiastically this time.
Unfortunately, that was where the progress ended.
"Bad water?"
By this point, Hyperlaser had completely abandoned any hope of subtlety. The visor-wearing phighter repeated the sequence yet again, this time exaggerating every step. Drink. Drink. Drink. Sleep. Wake up. Headache.
Medkit watched closely when the realization finally hit.
"A hangover?"
DING!
"Correct! Team Three takes the point!"
Hyperlaser lowered his arms in relief. Finally.
Across the banquet hall, Katana dragged a hand down his mask and sat back down promptly.
Meanwhile, Subspace was absolutely fuming. He looked a wrong breath away from strangling his teammates after his thorough explanation.
Before anyone could dwell on their mistakes for too long, Valk stepped forward and raised both hands.
"Well phighters, after five rounds, we have ourselves a tie! And since we're not particularly interested in giving two teams first place, we're going to settle this with a tiebreaker between Team One and Team Three."
Boombox immediately sat up straighter. A tiebreaker, which meant they still had a chance to win.
The screen behind the Flipside duo flickered.
TIEBREAKER ROUND
"Unlike the previous rounds, contestants won't be volunteering for this one," Valk announced. "Two random members from each team will be selected and will have to act out a prompt together!"
A collective groan spread throughout the room.
The giant screen behind Valk suddenly changed as a massive wheel appeared.
The wheel began spinning. Names flashed across the screen too quickly to read. After several seconds it slowed before finally stopping.
BOOMBOX
The musician froze.
The wheel spun again.
MEDKIT
Boombox turned around to give a smile to Medkit, but was met with a motionless doctor.
“Uhh, you alright Medkit?” The DJ asked in concern.
“Please, anyone but him,” Medkit whisper-pleaded while staring off into oblivion.
The wheel began spinning once more.
COIL
Across the room, Boombox saw Coil look up from whatever he had been doing.
The wheel spun one final time.
BIOGRAFT
A long silence followed, but was broken when Skateboard burst out laughing.
"Shut up," Coil muttered.
"Well," Dom said. "This should be interesting."
Eventually the four reluctantly made their way onto the stage. A minute later they were gathered around Valk while he unfolded the final slip of paper. The moment he read it, his grin widened.
"Oh, this is gonna be good."
Valk turned the paper around.
FIRST DATE
A collective groan escaped all of the contestants except Biograft.
"You've gotta be kidding me," whined Coil.
Medkit looked at Boombox with an icy glare. “Don’t you dare try anything with me.”
After the participants reluctantly made their way down back to their teams, the timer reset to 1:30.
“Three, two, one, GO!!!”
The moment the round started, Boombox immediately forgot about Medkit’s warning and committed himself to the prompt with a level of confidence that suggested he had completely lost his mind.
Without hesitation, he reached forward and pulled out a chair before carefully sliding it across an imaginary table, accompanying the gesture with an exaggerated flourish that looked more appropriate for a five-star restaurant than a charades competition.
He looked directly at Medkit and waited. A few seconds passed. Boombox gestured toward the chair again, this time more aggressively.
Medkit glanced toward his teammates as though searching for an alternative solution to the problem. There wasn't one. With the enthusiasm of someone who had spent an entire afternoon filing taxes, he finally sat down.
Boombox immediately sat down across from him and launched into the performance before Medkit could change his mind. The musician leaned forward enthusiastically, his hands moving constantly as he mimed telling some elaborate story. Every few seconds he would nod along to an imaginary response, laugh at an imaginary joke, or gesture dramatically as though describing the greatest adventure ever recorded. Across from him, Medkit looked like he would rather be anywhere else.
The contrast between the two was almost painful to watch. Boombox would lean forward excitedly, while Medkit would instinctively lean backward. Boombox would pretend to tell another joke, while Medkit would offer a sort of grimace.
Rocket looked between the two in stupor. “This is like the soap opera my dad watches.”
Curious to see how Coil was doing, Boombox briefly glanced at him.
Coil and Biograft were looking at each other in what appeared to be a staring contest. The interaction had somehow skipped straight past ‘first date’ and landed somewhere around ‘predator observing prey’.
Coil pointed at Biograft, then slowly drew a line across his neck with his hands. He quickly decided to turn his focus back to Medkit instead. While the doctor was acting like the literal personification of a lemon, at least he wasn't one bad mood away from dismantling his date for spare parts.
An idea crossed the musician’s mind. Without warning, Boombox suddenly pretended to knock over an imaginary drink; his entire body jolted in panic.
Boombox jumped out of his seat and looked back and forth between Medkit and the imaginary disaster. The secondhand embarrassment radiating from the doctor could probably be measured scientifically.
With the resolve of a wet dog, Medkit pretended to hand Boombox a napkin. Boombox clutched his chest dramatically as though Medkit had just performed the greatest act of kindness in the Inpherno’s history. Medkit visibly regretted his act.
The green-horned inphernal turned to awkwardly clean up the imaginary spill while Medkit sat there wishing for death. Unfortunately, nobody on Team Three seemed remotely close to the answer.
"Restaurant?" asked Rocket.
A shake of the head from Boombox.
"Interview?" suggested Sword.
Another shake.
"Therapy?" Hyperlaser asked.
Yet another shake.
"What kind of therapy have you been going to?" Rocket asked, whipping his head around to stare at Hyperlaser.
Meanwhile, things were somehow getting worse with the other team. Coil had completely abandoned any attempt at making the prompt look romantic. Instead, he sat across from Biograft with his arms folded and an expression that suggested he would rather be doing literally anything else.
The robot, naturally, remained completely motionless.
Subspace's eye twitched.
"Look at that bastard’s expression!"
"What expression?" Slingshot asked.
"The expression he always has when he's looking at one of my Biografts!"
Coil made another frustrated huff.
"He doesn't want to be there. My Biograft doesn't want to be there. Neither of them knows what they're doing. It's painfully awkward."
His eyes widened.
"IT’S A FIRST DATE!"
DING!
Coil looked absolutely perplexed despite being the one acting. “HUH??”
Subspace immediately leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. "That’s the Inpherno’s best mind for you losers."
"You guessed that from him hating your robot?" Skateboard asked, still in disbelief.
"Correct."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Needless to say, Medkit was not particularly impressed with his second loss of the night. He had shot a quick glare to Boombox before promptly making his way out of the hall.
As the banquet began winding down, staff started collecting empty plates while phighters gradually filtered out of the banquet hall in small groups. Some were still arguing over the results of the challenges, while others had already moved on to discussing the upcoming performances.
Boombox had just started following his friends toward the exit when a familiar voice called out.
"Boombox!"
The musician turned around. Valk was standing near the stage with Dom beside him.
"Can we borrow you for a second?"
“Oh, uh, yeah! Sure!”
He turned back toward his friends.
"I'll catch up with you guys later!"
Before anyone could ask questions, he practically ran toward the stage. To say he was nervous would have been an understatement.
Boombox was being personally waved over by Valk and Dom. The founders of Flipside. The people whose performances he had spent years watching. The people who had practically defined modern entertainment. The people he had spent an embarrassing amount of time wanting to impress.
"Uh..."
Boombox rubbed the back of his neck.
"What's up?"
Dom exchanged a brief glance with Valk before looking back at him.
"When we started planning this competition, we knew there was a chance it wouldn't work."
Boombox frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"A lot of the people here aren't performers," Dom spoke matter-of-factly. "Some have never been on a stage. Some have never worked with a group before. A few probably couldn't tell you the difference between a verse and a chorus."
Boombox let out a chuckle at that.
"The problem is that the audience won't care," Dom said after a pause. "They won't care how difficult this is," he explained, "or about what happens behind the scenes."
"If this succeeds, people will remember the performances." His gaze shifted toward the towering banners hanging around. "If it fails, they'll remember the disaster, and our reputation may take a heavy blow."
The words settled heavily in the air.
For the first time, Boombox found himself looking at the competition from a perspective he hadn't considered before.
To him, Phestivals had always seemed untouchable. They were one of the biggest events in the Inpherno. Every year they attracted massive crowds, enormous attention, and some of the most recognizable names in entertainment. He had never really stopped to consider that even something like this could crash and burn horribly.
"We're asking a lot of people to do something they've never done before," Dom continued. "Some of them will rise to the occasion, and some won't. That's inevitable."
"I know we already said this during the announcement last week, but this is where you come in," Valk cut in.
"We've worked with talented people before, but they’re not phighters like you. Trust me when I say that you’re the best suited for this role," Valk continued quickly.
Boombox remained silent.
"Listen, we're not expecting you to carry anyone," Valk said, “but people here are going to look for examples."
His gaze met Boombox's. "The question is whether you're going to give them one."
Boombox began fiddling with his hands, unable on how to respond. Dom spoke again, this time in a much softer voice.
"If this works, we want to keep building on it with you. Future events, projects, and collaborations."
The last word immediately caught his attention.
"That's all we wanted to say."
For the first time since the conversation began, Valk smiled.
"We chose you for a reason."
The simple certainty behind the statement lingered long after it was spoken.
Before Boombox could think of a response, the two began walking toward the banquet hall exit. A few steps later, Valk paused. Without turning around, he lifted a hand in farewell.
"Don't make us regret it."
Then the pair disappeared through the doors.