Chapter Text
Nemesis stood at the entrance to the Oceanus, the newly refurbished hottest new club in town or whatever. She was hired as the bouncer, not the hype man. As far as she was concerned, her job was to stand there and look intimidating. An easy enough gig, all things considered. Wasn’t paid enough to care about why the hottest new act on stage made everyone want to try to drown themselves. It was a good enough arm workout to fish sailors’ soggy asses out of this shitty bar’s shitty toilets. Their fault for not wearing the proper hearing protection to a concert, anyways. She never went anywhere without the right kind of armor for the job.
Right now, she’s standing outside the club. Nemesis can hear the muffled bass from outside. It’s just a soundcheck, but damn it’s loud.
She stands a little longer. She stands some more. She glares at some punk ass shades entering into the club. She continues to stand.
Gods, she thought. I hate this job.
-
A green glow forms at the back of the venue. The slimy formation of the arcane symbols grabs Scylla’s attention away from the gloom of this dank-ass excuse for a bar. Son of a witch, someone’s barging in here uninvited! What is that muscled-up security guard doing? Kicking rocks?
From the melting runes forms a truly pathetic excuse for a land-dweller. Scylla frowns at her immediate and all-encompassing bad vibes.
“Lady, this is a soundcheck. The meet and greet is at 5 pm.”
It wasn’t like she had to pay attention during the sound check – she was already a star, this was just another stepping stone into the ocean ( ha, get it ) of her career – but who was this lady to interrupt her, queen of the Oceanus, soon-to-be the biggest act in the entire world anyways?
“While I have the unfortunate honor of meeting you, I certainly shan’t be greeting you, siren.” Gods, is this woman British? “What are you doing in this establishment?”
“Hellooo? Seaweed got in your ears? I just said this was a soundcheck. One you weren’t invited for. Now shoo, lady.”
The land-dweller narrows her eyes, which zeros into the club manager quickly. He’s a weird dude – once tried to talk to Scylla about his vintage watch collection before she feigned not knowing how to read time to get out of it – but otherwise a normal guy, as far as club owners go. Weird obsession with gold and gilded fits, but eh. Scylla rocks a soaking wet, barnacle-laden clam herself, and can’t judge. But then this lady starts trembling, and points a finger at him.
“Chronos!” she roars, but it sounds like a mewling kitten after Jetty’s powerful bass. “How dare you invite this mediocre band when my father specifically asked for Orpheus to perform!”
Oh. This lady.
-
Nemesis sighs. She’s still standing. Switches her weight from the right leg to the left leg. She switches it back again after a couple of minutes.
-
“Let me go, you sorry excuse for a two-legger—“
“How dare you raise a hand at the daughter of the owner of this club!”
“Oh, so you’re a loser AND a nepo baby?! Pick a struggle, lady!”
“Silence! I am Melinoë, pupil of the great Heca—”
“Oh my Olympus, shut up! ” Scylla shoves a fist into the lady’s face, and she skids off the stage and onto the wooden floor.
Scylla leans forward menacingly and whispers, “Hey, loser. Do you know why they call me Death Metal?”
The bitch actually looks curious. “Why?”
“Because I put the “krill” in Skrillex!”
And with that, Scylla opens her mouth and unleashes a large, spiky music note from her lips. It wafts menacingly towards Melinoë. That’s it – this is the end for Miss Nepo Bad Haircut Lady.
Ribbit.
Scylla blinks. Jetty blinks. Roxy is awake enough to blink, shocker. The lady seems unphased. Her menacing note ricochets off the toad’s slimy skin. The toad, unbothered, inflates his mouth-sack and lets out another casual ribbit.
“Great job, Frinos!” coos the lady.
And while Scylla is still contemplating the sheer ridiculousness of a frog on her stage, the lady rushes up and witch-slaps Jetty into unconsciousness.
Olympus, Scylla wishes she had a gun.
-
Hmm. If Nemesis pushes this stone a few more inches to the left, and kinda flips it over like that, then…
There. It makes a sad face. A reflection of her soul when she stands guard at this two-bit club that’s switched managers twice in the last ten years.
“Bouncer,” Oh, speaking of managers. Here’s Chronos, the gaudy new owner, looking flushed and panting slightly. “There’s an altercation inside with the talent. Get that girl out of here now!”
-
The lady’s noodle-y arms are trying to slip out of her wet grasp to land a punch on her face. Scylla saw how hard she hit the now-incapacitated Jetty, so she tightens her grip and snarls. The lady snarls back – ew, okay, weird vibes.
Suddenly, her eyes go wide and round with recognition. Her body goes limps like a dead fish, all resistance from earlier vanishing.
“Nemesis?” she whispers to something behind Scylla’s head.
Oh, look who finally decides to show up! The ‘roided up bouncer is finally here, cradling the…frog in her hands? Aww, she was going to eat that frog after.
“Nemesis…” continues the lady. “I never thought I’d see you again..”
There's a breathy quality to the intruder’s voice. The tips of her ears have gone red. Astonishingly, the bouncer also looks a little flushed.
The bouncer clears her throat, dropping the frog unceremoniously. He hits the wooden stage with a wet croaaak .
“Uh, Scylla, you can…let her go. I’ll handle this.”
She drops the lady unceremoniously. She hits the wooden stage with a dry, painful thud .
“ Psst , Scylla,” whispers Roxy. “Don’t those two have some kind of weird energy going on?”
From the floor, goldfish circling her head, Jetty mumbles, “Wow, happy pride month…”
“We haven't switched to the Gregorian Calendar yet,” growled Scylla.
“Why are you here?” continued the intruder. “I thought you'd be with us, working on getting back the businesses we lost.”
Miss Protein For Brains sighs. “Listen, Princess. I needed a job, and this is where it ended up being. It's not personal.”
“Not personal ?!” screeches “Princess” (objectively a bad nickname, in Scylla’s humble opinion). “This is about my family! About their life’s work! How could you do this, Nem?”
“Princess” shivers and hugs herself.
“No matter. I knew this quest was a solitary one. I'll get back this club, from you,” and here she points at Chronos, “from you,” and here she jabs their bouncer's chest with a long finger, “and so help me Gods–”
And here, she turns to Scylla herself, rage and righteousness trembling in every limb.
“–I will bury your band into the depths even if it’s the last thing I do.”
Scylla bares her inhumane, terrifying teeth in return. “Bring it on, lady .”
With that off her chest, the intruder vanishes through another magic circle, leaving behind a long, uncomfortable silence. Their bouncer looks mad as all Hells. Scylla is not dealing with this weird overshare on a Tuesday, so she turns to leave when–
An obnoxious ahem comes from the manager.
“So, Retribution Incarnate ,” he sneers, “you’re acquainted with my granddaughter? How positively droll.”
Nemesis’ eyes go wide, and, as swiftly as can be, grabs her sword and stabs herself in the chest. She vanishes with a similar magic circle as the lady. Interesting .
Chronos chuckles darkly. “Oh, those Chthonics and Olympians. They’ll come back. They always do.”
Well, that’s good. Scylla has a score to settle. But wait, hang on...
“Aren’t you an Olympian?”
“Hah, I’m a Titan, girl.”
Scylla squints. ‘Like the watch brand?”
“What? No."