Chapter Text
“...West?”
Zuke had not expected an answer, and he did not get one. But he had to verbalize his thoughts before he could even begin to understand the scene before him.
In the dark, not far away from him, stood the large figure of DK West. It was hard to tell with so little ambient light, but he looked worse for wear. When he shifted backwards, the moonlight that filtered through a sewer grate (Moonlight? He’d been running around the power grid longer than he thought ) struck across his brother’s torso and face, confirming his identity under the pale glow. His stubble appeared particularly unkempt, and he was grinning, but in that uncertain way he did whenever he knew he was in deep trouble. Zuke also noticed the start of bruising around his left eye.
“Heh heh heh. [Can’t win a fight fair against the best issit?]” His older brother snickered before his expression narrowed. “We don't need to do this missy! [Walk out and we don’t embarrass each other ah?]”
Contrary to West’s bravado, the situation didn’t appear to favor him in the least. Surrounding him were four people, all of diverse statures and appearances but all wearing either hoodies or jackets and baggy clothes in shades of black and gray. They were either carrying bats or metal poles, except for one of them who appeared to be carrying a knife , whereas West was just unarmed.
“What are you talking about? Poda! The only one who’s gonna be red in the face is you after we’re done putting you in your place, music man. You don’t have any magic bulls to hide yourself behind anymore.” Said the knife-wielder, a woman with a spiny haircut, who could be almost as tall as Nadia. Considering the way the others appeared to respond to her, she was likely to be the ringleader of these thugs.
“Our place now, man! It’s the counter-revolution!” Hollered one of the bat-carriers, a shorter guy.
Zuke was beginning to highly suspect this was no rap battle that was about to take place.
His brother cast the thugs a look midway between anger and anxiety, even while still maintaining his customary cheshire cat grin. He did look genuinely upset, which was concerning.
“Counter revolution? No lah, [told you, don’t care for this city’s politics.] We talk this already, alright missy? [What I care for is you messing with family matters. Can't respect the people, then out with you.] Now!”
“Alright then… Say goodnight to your kneecaps!”
Zuke’s heart stopped as the knife-wielder jumped at his brother, poised to stab. West yelped and backstepped, raising his arms to defend himself and batting away the thuggish woman with a massive hand before she could do too much damage. She was sent tumbling back with a shout, but even in the darkness he knew that West’s hand had not escaped the sharp implement unscathed.
What-?! why-
'These people are really out to beat up my brother!'
Despite DK West’s intimidating body frame and strength, the drummer knew the truth. His older brother was not really a fighter.
That was not to say he couldn’t hold his own, the many times Zuke ended up eating dirt after roughhousing with West were plenty evidence to that. But despite his brash nature, his brother genuinely had zero interest in being seen as a brute. West didn’t care for either politics or violence; the only dominance he wanted to assert was over grooves. After the events of the Rock Revolution (and the workout it had given them ), Zuke suspected he had outdone his older brother as a (heavy quotations) "warrior", no matter how uncomfortable the realization he was more of a thug than West was made him.
(...Putting the fact that he did not make it out alive aside).
So even despite the strength advantage, in a four versus one, unarmed… these were not very good odds for West.
At least, if he didn’t account for his brother’s Wayang Kulit.
The other goons leapt at West when their ringleader was knocked away, hollering their battlecries with raised blunt weapons.
“Aah! Dah lah tu!”
His brother charged forward like a bull. The poles and bats connected, and Zuke flinched in increasing concern at the meaty sound from the impacts, but by lowering his profile West did manage to avoid the bonk to the head. Using his arms to protect himself and his noggin as a ram, he trampled one of the goons and knocked away another, who squawked before failing his metaphorical athletics check and ending up in the stream of foul-smelling water.
“AHNANANANA HECK NAH!” Screamed the goon shrilly, immediately digging himself out of the sewage and beating the retreat.
“Dude, seriously? Get back here! Are you really just bailing ‘cause of a lil bit of… crap?!” The knife-wielder protested, still picking herself up.
“Nah, I said I was cool with a fight! I didn’t say anything about a fight while covered in...” The goon seemed to panic further as he avoided wording his thoughts, spitting out water as he rushed off. “It’s just one guy and he has no weapons! You can handle him!”
“Fine! You just… run back home, you coward!” Shouted the ringleader back, turning back towards their ‘quarry’ only to find him halfway across the tunnel, distance increasing.
“Yesss, you go West! Get away man!” Zuke cheered, even knowing his support would not be heard. His big brother’s charge had never stopped, instead turning into a full sprint as the large man made his way away from the gang with surprising speed. Taking a whole two seconds to remember that he couldn’t physically run anymore, the drummer’s spirit scrambled around before he sank into the wires and bolted after his kin.
Zuke might not be able to physically do anything about the situation, but he couldn’t just leave West alone to these brutes. He needed to see, he needed to do something!
Somehow!
“Get his ass!” Shouted the knife-wielder as the remaining thugs got to their bearings.
Down the sewer the odd pack went, three goons chasing down one indie rapper followed by a ghost.
But the chase did not last long, nowhere as long as needed. All too soon the tunnel came to an abrupt end, boxing West in with his pursuers approaching hot on his tail.
The large man reached up towards another of the grates in the ceiling, from which some of the light from the moon and the streets filtered through. He was tall enough to pull at the bars, and did just that, bending them out of shape.
“C’mon… c’mon…! [Gimme something to work with!]” The rapper growled to no one, jaw clenched.
Zuke watched this, puzzled.
‘West? What are you doing?’ Was he trying to climb out of the sewer through the grate hole? It was small enough it would’ve given Zuke trouble to slip through, and he was a lean guy. Even assuming West could pull himself up far enough, Zuke doubted he would fit...
He watched with growing confusion, until he saw a faint movement against the wall in his peripheral vision. A sad little shadow cast on the concrete, weak and barely noticeable with so little light to cast it.
The realization hit him.
...That’s it then. That’s the problem!
Zuke was not particularly wise to his brother’s shadow puppetry abilities. He had known he had them, yeah, but by the time they made themselves apparent West and him had been right in the middle of falling out. And with Zuke’s burgeoning pride, and West’s growing resentment, the last thing in the drummer’s mind was asking for a detailed explanation of this cool new thing his brother could do.
But, he had picked up some of the mechanics of it from observing him.
Particularly during their rap battles.
DK West always kept himself and the wall for his warrior bull lit up, even if he liked to have his fans shut off the rest of the streetlights for dramatic effect. Although his control over shadows was quite cool, he didn’t seem to be able to do anything with the darkness blanketing the rest of the street. Most likely, West’s power wasn’t general shadow manipulation, it was controlling his own shadow specifically.
Which meant that he needed a light source.
...That didn’t currently exist.
...Because they were underground and the power blackout still affected the sewers.
Uh oh.
“Stop running away,” growled the ringleader.
“[Would love to lah but that knife very sharp,]” West answered flippantly, pretending to ignore her as he cracked open the grate. The bull shadow on the wall stirred slightly, but it was still too weak to attack. It barely affected the light levels.
As he finally understood the real gravity of the situation, the thugs descended on his brother. West kicked the ringleader away again, this time before she could actually hurt him, but unless a miracle happened in the form of unexpected backup or the power returned it was going to be a losing battle.
Well... there was Zuke. He was unexpected backup.
He had to do something.
But... that was the problem?
He… couldn’t do anything. What was he gonna do? He didn't have his drumsticks, or even any hands to throw at these pricks, at least not tangible ones. He was a ghost, comes with the territory.
…He was a ghost that had turned on a generator.
The undead drummer raced up the power lines to the ceiling, clumsily rushing in search of something, anything useful and winding up at one of the shut off LED lights forming the barebones electric circuit down there, there for sanitation workers for use.
He wrapped his intangible hands over it in a panic.
Okay, brother. Here's to hoping this is your miracle.
The next thing he knew, the sounds of the skirmish had stopped. Even though Zuke didn’t really have a physical body anymore, the bright light after having gotten used to the darkness still blinded him, and he needed to take more than a few moments to readjust. Everyone in the tunnel had paused as they slowly registered the change in circumstances.
Immediately followed by a shadow bull charging, knocking and pinning down the knife wielder.
West hooted, hand outstretched in a guiding gesture towards his living shadow as he wasted no time in working his magic.
"Ahaaa! [NOW we're talking! You really thought you could shoot down the Great DK West like a dog?] Well, missy, [I say my turn to take the lead in this dance keh?] EWAH!"
"Is the blackout over?! I thought you had shut the whole system here down!" The ringleader struggled, locked in fierce pushing war against a giant warrior bull. Of course, she couldn't actually stab a shadow, and she snapped her attention towards the other two goons.
"I dunno boss! It should be down but we've ran so far away from their base it shouldn't matter anyways!"
"Do something, stupid!"
West, feeling better about his odds, charged at the remaining two thugs with a warcry and knocked each of them against opposite sides of the tunnel. One of them raised their weapon, but the large man managed to get ahold of the metal pole and sharply yanked it out of the thug's hands.
Meanwhile, the ringleader had managed to break herself free from the shadow bull, rolling on the ground after almost having her wrist snapped by an intangible hoof. The shadow puppet glared as it turned to bullrush them all down the tunnel, with DK West grinning smugly and doing a finger gun at the trio with his free hand. His shadow wouldn’t hurt him, but everyone else? Swept off their feet.
It was curtains for the goons.
Or… it seemed curtains until the third one panicked and threw his baseball bat at the light Zuke was currently inhabiting, cracking it. He felt no pain when it happened, only saw the metal bat flying at him followed by a discomfort like his body was momentarily pulled apart before it stopped right before any damage was done. But it did make him cringe.
'Ow...'
...West's grin faded as the tunnel was blanketed in darkness once again and his shadow disappeared, right before he could have called victory.
"Ah."
"...So whose turn to dance?" Jeered the leader, standing with her knife in hand and the other two disarmed, but still healthy, goons.
To West's credit, he didn't try to run or was any more cowed than he'd been, instead bouncing in place in cheerful dance and making a grand gesture to the woman with a hand while he held his 'borrowed' metal pole over his shoulder, smiling all the while.
"Aish, missy, [so angry one. We can dance together if you wanted! Share the spotlight! Don't need to take over the place to impress me, fiery spirit you have enough!]"
"Eugh. Gross."
The odds were still not that great, but West’s chances had grown to roughly 50/50, and it looked like he chose to take them.
The two stared at each other for a long moment in a tense standoff, one in fury, other resolute.
Until the knife wielder snarled.
'You know what?' Zuke thought, wrapping his essence into the mechanisms of the now sparking safety light to try and dig out the LEDs he knew hid in there.
'I think I’m about done being a spectator here.'
And before she could lunge at his brother… a falling light cracked her head.
She squeaked at the impact, standing on her feet for a moment before she faltered, hands to her head.
“Owww…”
“Whoa!” One of the two goons walked forwards, hoisting her by an arm before she could fall down. “...You good sis?”
Zuke blinked, realizing what he had done.
'Oh. Uh. That… wasn’t what I was trying to do. Oops...
...I’ll take it, though. Please don't, uh, don't die.'
“Yyyyeahh shure… am great, lemme just, go at him…” Warbled the dazed ringleader. By this point the third one had gotten over there to help her stand up as well, any semblance of continuing the fight gone. Even West had dropped his guard, expression torn between confused, smug and somewhat concerned.
“Yeah no, this has escalated like way too much sis.”
“[...Sooo does this mean we done here?] Very ok if so.”
“Shut the hell up, we ain’t talking to you.”
West made a mock-disbelieving ‘ish ish’ noise as he advanced forwards, hands to his waist and causing the remaining goons with still full mental capacity to tense.
“Aiseh... [Shouldn’t talk back to the guy you in the mercy of lah. You wanna go with THE DK West when he holds the hitting stick?]” He underlined his intent by tapping the metal pole he’d stolen from one of them against his other hand.
“Uhh…”
The ringleader wasn’t even participating, and could only mumble half coherently. The goons eyed each other nervously.
“...Counterrevolution beats a tactical retreat?”
“...Counterrevolution go. Don’t fall asleep sis!!” The older of the two thugs yelped before backpedaling, dragging the concussed woman (and incidentally his shorter ally) as he ran the way they came.
“That’s right! Cabut! [That what you got for tripping up DK WEST!]” He posed with every syllable of his name as the goons ran into the darkness, his voice echoing down the sewer tunnels. “[And don’t come back here got it? Or I do worse than that!] E-E-E-EWAH!”
There was no answer to his crowing as the gang disappeared past a corner.
His display of bravado continued until the trio was long gone into the darkness, their steps having faded into the wet background noises. Only then, once the rapper was well and truly alone (or so he thought ) did the manic grin leave West’s face, turning into obvious discomfort and a quiet groan as he slid down against the sewer’s wall.
Zuke watched his brother’s sudden change in behavior with a furrowed brow. “West, are you doing alright? ” He asked, only to remember a moment later he couldn’t be heard in his ghostly state. It... really was going to take some getting used to. The drummer made an unhappy grunt towards himself, only able to watch his elder brother crash after that adrenaline rush.
The large man remained against the dusty wall, a hand placed over his chest as he recovered his breathing.
“[Worse than that… Psh.] Like what?” He sighed, sounding almost… dejected. “Jangan perasan West.”
'Okay, now he is acting really weird.'
His older brother sat up slightly, eyeing the metal pole he’d snatched with a repulsed frown. Grabbing it from both sides, he bent it with his bare hands until it cracked in two then threw it away with a metallic clang. With the weapon disposed of, West shook his injured hand and let out a pained hiss before putting his lips to the stab wound, either blowing on the injury or licking off the blood - Zuke couldn’t be sure, it wouldn’t be unlike his brother to deem that good enough treatment-.
'What the hell, West don’t do that. That can’t be hygienic, we’re in a sewer! Er… an unsanitized sewer, I mean.'
Thinking back… what was all that about?
Counter-revolution. That was what these people called themselves. So, the drummer had to guess, their appearance was likely in response to the Rock Revolution that May and him staged. Unless there were some other revolutions he didn’t hear about in between the time when he… died… and the time he woke up again. But West didn’t look any older, and their home still looked lived in, so he doubted enough time had passed for anything like that.
'Maybe Tatiana had more of a point than I thought when she said we were setting a bad precedent. But... I thought it would take much longer for there to be this kind of consequence! And what for? I really doubt May turned around and took over NSR the moment I was out of the picture.'
Honestly the more he thought about these guys ganging up on his big brother, the angrier Zuke was getting, to a degree he was making himself uncomfortable. He couldn’t help it, however. The realization that they either waited for a blackout or messed with the power in the sewers themselves before taking on West just heightened Zuke’s resentment.
'I hope I didn’t become some sort of vengeful wraith or anything like that. I don’t really want to hurt anybody. Except these guys. Maybe.'
All in all he didn’t feel too bad about accidentally cracking a safety light on that woman’s head.
Mostly.
Zuke sighed and decided to dismiss the roiling thoughts from his head to take a good look at his new surroundings. Because he had been possessing the LED lamp before he’d dropped it instead of lighting the room up, he now found himself on the floor, still inside the destroyed thing. Good to know an object being broken didn’t actually hurt him, at least. He would try not to drop himself inside a smelter or something like that.
Above him in the ceiling, the exposed wiring from where he’d released the light was visible. A few feet away, the abandoned metal bat and the broken pieces of the pole, then the stream of liquid as might be expected in a sewer.
And then there was his older brother, unmoving, still sitting against a wall he stared into the darkness of the abandoned tunnels with a frown in his face.
Bro’s probably still in shock… C’mon, West. I didn’t split someone’s head open just so you can sit there looking like that.
Zuke tried to reach around for some other object to hitchhike upon. There was the broken metal shaft, and the bat laying around, but unlike his experience with the wires nothing happened when he tried to grab onto them. They just rejected him.
That just left DK West as the only other ‘thing’ left in his range. Hm.
To Zuke’s surprise, he did actually get a grip when he reached towards his brother.
The ghostly drummer gawked for a moment in awkward surprise. Could he like… possess other people? Was that something he could do? He couldn’t remember being able to grab on the technicians… Maybe it was because he was his brother?
Curioser and curioser, and Zuke’s curiosity was indeed piqued.
'I suppose only one way to find out.
Wait, what if I can’t let him go afterwards? I don’t wanna grand theft body-!'
“♪~I’m a little zonkey! Heehaw! Heehaw!~♪”
His immediate reaction was cut off by DK West’s high pitched terror squeal.
Zuke wheezed in the throes of barely restrained laughter.
'Oh my god, he’s still carrying that thing!'
Spooked so badly he’d climbed to his feet, West hurriedly dug through his coat. He had patted everywhere along his sides before he finally felt the hard square shape through his clothes and pulled out the old tape recorder.
“Promise you’ll never ever play this again?” Continued the tape in his big brother’s hand, Zuke’s young voice blissfully unaware. “Hmm, okay. ♪~I’m a little zonkey! Heehaw! Heehaw!~♪”
Mystery solved. He hadn’t actually possessed his brother, it was the tape recorder in his pockets. Though Zuke couldn’t say he minded the outcome. His poor older brother had been surprised enough by the recorder that he’d opened his usually squinting eyes, deep red and uncomfortably similar to what the drummer would see in a mirror.
Zuke felt a little bad, really, he did, but one look at West’s stumped face undid all his efforts to keep himself composed. He dissolved into ugly laughing wheezes. The part of him that had not grown up since secondary school felt quite gleeful about the damn tape that had been used to terrorize him for years becoming the instrument of his revenge.
“You know, man,” Zuke chortled, only mostly managing to compose himself. “Kinda serves you right for not throwing away the tape when you promised to all those years ago.”
West turned off the recording with a click of his thumb. His expression had turned first contemplative, then uncharacteristically fond. He patted the device a couple times as if he were petting a cat.
“[Okay, okay little Zukie. I’m being dumb, you got a point. You get to laugh.] This time only.”
“Huh?” Zuke immediately snapped to attention. “Wait- Can you hear me?"
But West didn’t respond. He simply began walking with a dancing gait, bouncing to an imaginary beat as he hummed and kept the tape recorder in his hands.
"Oh."
Zuke deflated. He wasn’t heard, it was just coincidence. And a very accurate guess on his older brother’s part of how he would react.
'That’s what brothers are like, I suppose.'
Well, he was now trapped inside the tape recorder. Might as well go along for the ride.
But as DK West made his way back, he halted for a moment to stare down at the remains of the lamp that had struck the thug on the head. His thoughtful gaze was followed by looking up at the exposed wires at the ceiling of the tunnel, and then finally at the old tape recorder.
After a moment’s thought, West played the recording again.
“♪~I’m a little zonkey! Heehaw! Heehaw!~♪”
Smiling, West continued down the tunnel, whatever conclusion he’d reached left unsaid and leaving his secret passenger wondering.
___
Zuke didn’t get to wonder about what his brother was doing in the sewer tunnels for very long before West threw him another curveball by entering their own house.
As in, Bunk Bed Junction’s cleaned up section of the sewers.
The familiarity with which he did so was kind of startling, too. With all these people they’d invited over, maybe Zuke should’ve really looked into putting up some kind of security system… Maybe it really wasn't a mystery how Kliff could find the way to their lair.
West entered through the door to Ellie’s room and walked up to their living room, stopping at the doorframe to stare up at the lights with a confused head tilt.
Oh, right. Zuke had turned on the power before stumbling upon West. It had been dark when he’d come into the sewer.
In any case the rapper seemed to shrug off the change in the environment with little thought, moving over to the large couch and flopping bodily on it without a care, where he sprawled as long as he was. Which was quite a lot. West was lucky that Zuke couldn’t nag at him to be more careful with the couch; like nearly everything they owned, the couch was second hand and probably kinda fragile. He might tolerate Mayday doing it, sure, but May was May and she also wasn’t the size of a small car.
Though, given what happened minutes earlier… yeah, Zuke didn’t feel like being too hard on his brother this time.
DK West stretched and made an exhausted groan before blowing on his stabbed hand again, and putting down the tape recorder on the couch. The moment the recorder was set down, Zuke reached out into the room’s electrical circuit, first through the tv remote and then their Master Wolfe arcade. He may not have any legs to stretch anymore but it still felt good not to be confined. Maybe ghosts do get restless.
The undead rocker was quickly beginning to piece together his new limits, faster the longer he experimented with them. He was… not ‘alive ’, not really, but he appeared to be tied to electricity somehow. He could possess objects, and hop between them... But only if they required power to work. Not every single thing would do.
'So I’m like… an electrical poltergeist? Tied to power lines and electronics… I thought ghosts were supposed to throw around books and send messages via ouija boards, but it doesn’t look like I can do either of those things.'
Just to test his theory, he reached from the TV remote to the book set on top of the coffee table. It rejected him just like the baseball bat.
'Huh.'
He had never heard of ghosts being like this, but then again paranormal investigation never was one of his interests in the first place. Zuke always thought that behind each unexplained event there was a logical explanation, even in a place as occasionally insane as Vinyl City tended to be. Had he had this kind of knowledge earlier (of watching spirits and existence after death and ghosts in the machine and music in the soul), he probably would’ve found the topic of the occult at least slightly more interesting in life.
Too bad he couldn’t really make a good use of it now.
...
Zuke made the motion of bringing a hand to his hair. His body still was as translucent as ever but he still could feel the phantom feeling of touch.
'Oh man, I’m... really a ghost…'
Even with a few hours worth of time to process this, it was still just as hard to swallow.
He was thankfully distracted from a thought spiral by the sound of his older brother moving.
DK West had pulled out a cellphone from somewhere within his coat, almost ridiculously small compared to the size of his hands. He was typing in something one letter at a time, biting his tongue in concentration to avoid mistyping with his huge and potentially screen-covering fingers. Zuke smiled to himself, part perplexed part amused by how carefully his brother had to work to even get anything done, before he heard the sound of dialing. The thought that West might struggle to operate the phone hadn't even occured to him before. Thinking about it, maybe it would’ve been easier on his brother to ask him to call back instead of text. Or he could've gotten him one of those giant phones for old folks...
West lifted the phone to his head, though not too closely.
“Hello! DJ Zam from Zam FM on the phone! Unfortunately we’re not currently taking music requests or questions, as we’ve ran into a bit of a problem at the recording booth-”
“Ey macha.” West cut off Zam, sounding satisfied. “Kautim liao.”
“-West!” Zam exclaimed immediately, sounding overjoyed and perking Zuke’s curiosity immediately.
'These two know each other?'
“You actually managed it? That’s amazing, gotta go back right away! H-how are you holding up?”
“Fuh huh huh” West chuckled, laying back. “Boleh tahan lah, [I am - the - DK West after all! Ewah!]” The large man grinned and beat his chest, before his expression fell slightly as he worried a thumb over his left eye socket. A black eye was definitely starting to form by this point. “[...Maybe a little trouble I admit. They didn’t want to talk it over.]”
“...You aren’t too hurt, are you?”
“No lah, [nothing too much trouble for somebody like me!]”
“If you’re sure.” Zam replied uncertainly. “Hold on tight. I am sure Bunk Bed Junction kept some first aid around the room to tend to themselves during the whole revolution business.”
“Nono, chop, DJ. [Don’t care about that right now.]” Zam began making a light disgruntled noise but was interrupted by West. ”[Find anything on our little missy?]”
“Little miss- oh. Nope… sorry. No dice. Apparently she was at the plaza out today, playing at the memorial, but I didn’t learn about that until just now because of the, uh… ‘bully’ situation.”
“Aduh...” West whistled through his teeth in irritation. ”Ok, tak apa. [Expected that already.]”
“To be fair, I don’t think either of us would’ve gotten to her anyways. Tatiana was also there. She’s been very good at making sure nobody pesters Mayday without a good reason.”
If Zuke had ears to perk, they’d be high as a hound’s on the trail when that name was mentioned.
The ghostly drummer had taken to exploring along the wiring on the wall during the conversation, leaving a trail of turned on devices as he tested out what he could and couldn’t do. The Master Wolfe machine blinked its game over screen, which West had thankfully not noticed, but he did stare with a blank expression when Zuke turned on the TV. Whatever they were showing, it was the middle of a commercial break.
“Good reason?” West parroted and sat up slightly, picking the phone back up and scowling. He also patted the seat of the couch under him, likely to check if he had sat down on the remote. Of course, there was nothing. “[We are] good reason! [What can we even do to her ah? We’re not journalists.]”
“Uh, don’t take this badly West, but I know you’re not precisely seen in a good light by NSR. And, er… Tatiana once tuned in to my talk show with B2J so I think I kind of count as a news reporter.”
Speak of the devil, it would seem, as the jingle for the Vinyl City Report rang out from the TV speakers.
“Five hours ago, the reconnection of the repaired Grand Qwasa to Vinyl City’s power grid caused a cascading blackout that affected every district of the city, temporarily plunging it into nigh unprecedented darkness before recurring again two hours later. Now, at 11 PM, it seems the situation is finally under control.”
West made a small grumble, but seemed inclined to agree with Zam. His eyes had turned back to the screen however, attention split between the phone and the news on screen as he got up to get the TV remote.
“Feeh… [Hate it that you right. Can’t give up though,]” The older brother pumped up a fist, remote now in hand. “[Hope they get bored of turning me away at the gate soon.]”
“That’s right! We just got to… bide our time, I suppose. Got to keep the other sewer dwellers in check and updated in the meanwhile.”
Tatiana appeared on screen, seated on her customary desk. Several mics were held towards the CEO’s stern face. Somewhat to Zuke’s surprise, she still had the magmalike hairdo and lava lines on her face, though she had replaced her magenta pince nez shades.
Her appearance stilled DK West's hand before he could turn off the TV.
“As many of you are well aware of, NSR has nothing but the utmost respect and love for the citizens of our beloved city. We were reassured, again and again, that the repaired Grand Qwasa was safe and suitable to reconnect to the main city and qwasa-sync power grids. Clearly, we were lied to. And for that I sincerely apologize.”
“West?” Zam called from the other side of the line with clear concern. DK West shook his head back to attention.
“Here lah, […I leave you to that DJ. Will check on NSR tower later. Need to, ehh… do something now. Anything wrong, then roger me wei.] West out!”
“Call you later West, be safe!” Answered DJ Zam before West hung up, breathing a low sigh as he sat down on the couch again.
Now it was just them and the TV. Its cracked screen flickered almost ominously. The ending to Tatiana’s speech droned on in the new silence of the room.
“Of course, the people responsible for this breach of trust have been suitably reprimanded, with a new work team assigned to the reparations of the Grand Qwasa. And to the people and new musicians who are upset at these news, I ask only for a little bit more patience. Though these obstacles are unfortunate, it is only a matter of time until Vinyl City flourishes, brighter and fairer than ever.”
As the news cut to another scene, Zuke couldn’t help but notice that Tatiana’s usual stern tone sounded more jaded than he ever heard it.
West made a huffing noise.
The screen then cut back to a view of the Festival Plaza, lit up once again, though in a more… reserved capacity than Zuke had seen it earlier in the day. The screens were off and so were the billboards and neons, leaving on mostly necessity lighting from streetlamps and shop interiors. Despite the comparative silence, there were still people along the street.
The voice of the VCR newscaster took over once again.
“The cleanup of the Rock Revolution is thus still underway, though not every outcome is grim. Following NSR’s rework and backing of indie music, previously underground artists and bands are coming to the forefront. Although it is yet unclear what the diminished importance of Megastars might come to mean to these upstarts, the resuming Lights Up Audition promises to be more interesting than ever. Bunk Bed Junction’s unfortunate end has left independent musicians without an important figurehead, and clawing for public attention against corporate backed music will not be easy without their eye-catching stunts. It is for this reason that among the participants of this potential ‘indie spring’, ‘B2J’ appears to have become a rallying call.”
Rallying... call?
Cut to- oh, that reporter guy again. Zuke frowned, the dude might just be doing his job, but also seeing him now gave him secondhand anxiety. At least give him a warning before filming him with a crumby face…
The headline he read along the bottom of the screen, in all caps and bold red face, only made the pit in his stomach drop harder.
‘MAYDAY: THE NEW KUL FYRA?’
“Mayday, B2J’s guitarist and only remaining member, was spotted in public for the first time since the Rock Revolution! Mere hours before today’s blackout, Mayday was filmed during a solo performance at the Festival Plaza, but NSR’s tight security prevented our news crew from approaching for an interview.”
The ‘tight security ’ mentioned by the reporter revealed itself in the clip to be none other than Tatiana once again as she stood among the crowd, wearing a Goolings leather jacket and giving the news crew a stink eye so vile they just packed up their cameras and ran off the way they came. Zuke would’ve found it absolutely hysterical if his heart wasn’t racing with an unnatural beat for an entirely different reason, barely noticeable in the clip behind the crowd.
“Two weeks after the destruction of the Grand Qwasa, a common fear has begun manifesting in the music scene. With B2J gone the way of The Goolings, many ask: Will history finish repeating? Will Mayday disappear like legendary guitarist Kul Fyra, leaving the new ‘spring of indie music ’ to fend for itself? Only time will tell, but the fears only grow as the silence continues.”
‘May…’
He was not really listening anymore, his eyes fixed to the hunched orange silhouette sitting down with a guitar and turned away from view. He could not see much, the clip unfocused and blurry from the movement, but just the posture and situation alone were worrying enough to Zuke.
The only thing that kept him from getting carried away with spiralling what-ifs was the tone-deaf melodrama about Kul Fyra’s disappearance.
While Tatiana was right there, on the clip. Being as unsubtle about her true identity as she physically could without bursting into flame and belting out an old hit under a neon with the text GOOLINGS.
It just… added to the surrealism, turning unintentionally reassuring to Zuke.
If she truly is the new Kul Fyra, then May’s not going to disappear anywhere.
‘You know, I… kind of begin to question their journalistic instinct.’
All too soon the screen changed anyways, depriving him of that inkling of familiarity.
“While the lifespan of the rebellious indie band has been short-lived, it's impact continues to prove deep-reaching,” Continued the newscaster, to Zuke’s disgruntled ‘ouch’, “Not only for the music scene but for the politics of Vinyl City. Concern regarding the effects of Qwasa technology failure continue to arise following investigation on the death of B2J drummer Zuke, and the startling revelation the power spike was strong enough for human disintegration-”
-CRUNCH.-
“Can everyone please stop victimizing my TV?! ” Zuke complained in exasperation as DK West pulled away his fist from the screen.
For his part, at least West seemed to have the decency to look slightly sheepish, looking around as if to check if he was seen trashing the poor device before dusting the television with a hand and straightening up like he never did anything wrong.
This being DK West, it wasn’t a convincing act.
“Eeesh. [Sure nobody will notice a little more cracking…]” The giant of a man mused to himself, though Zuke had the feeling his brother would act far less concerned about it if he knew he was around to watch. Just a little hunch.
Though while he was pretty annoyed… the ghostly drummer had to admit that punching the TV because West didn’t want to hear about his dead brother was by far the most understandable reason his poor TV had been punched for yet. Zuke was… not exactly ready to think and really examine his situation yet. He wasn’t sure of his brother’s state of mind either, but it couldn’t have been that much better. Left to continue, he would’ve turned it off himself.
By pressing the off button. Because he was a reasonable person.
Reasonable ghost.
Reasonable ghostly person?
“Yes they will, ” Zuke grumbled at his older brother in vain, unheard, meanwhile West picked up the tape recorder and cellphone before scampering away from the TV and the living room. “ ...Where are you going? ”
___
“Stop squirming, kiddo. It’s just povidone.”
“Aku tidak-” West started before hissing through his teeth as Aunty swabbed around the stab wound on his hand with a cotton ball damp with the antiseptic. Zuke watched from the cash register he was haunting as the large man just sagged and gave up any attempt to seem bold.
After the incident with the TV, West had booked it out of the sewers, wearing an uneasy expression that Zuke couldn’t quite decipher. Left with more questions than answers, the drummer had chosen to follow his older brother through the wiring until he got his feelings sorted, at which point West was immediately intercepted by Aunty. He might have been able to shrug off DJ Zam’s questioning, but it took one look at the bruises for the gentle hearted mamak owner to turn on the Certified Mama Bear mode and not take a no for an answer. Zuke had to appreciate the energy needed to have his boisterous brother act cowed.
Aunty gave West a light smack to the arm to gain his attention as she began wrapping his hand in gauze. She sounded miffed. “Be more careful, please. Look at this! It almost goes straight through your hand. Through, your, hand! And then what would you do ah? You might need stitches!”
“Ahhh, c’mon lah, [it’s not that bad! If the power didn’t go die then would’ve been all alright! Not like I thought I kena cut like that, I went to talk, not to rgh…]” West interrupted himself with a small grunt as she gently brushed the edge of his black eye with a thumb in inspecting it. "[...Not what happened.]”
“West, dearie, do you think I’m daft?”
“Daft wat-? [Of course not!]”
“Then clearly you are, since you went down there by yourself knowing they were aggressive, and you are the opposite of a polite smooth talker. Do you think I’m not aware of the comings and goings in the sewers? Half the community came to me for jobs and breakfast.” Aunty put her arms to her waist, staring down at his older brother with an uncharacteristically unreadable expression."What were you expecting would happen?"
West began by opening his mouth, closing it when he had no immediate response to fling back, before shrugging his shoulders. “[Not sure. Can trashtalk one other like good little men ah? Cannot sit there and let them do anything!]” He did falter a little as Aunty’s expression did not change. “Cannot, okay.”
As the conversation trailed off, Zuke sighed and glanced out into the street. He was glad DK West at least was... if not happy to accept help, then at least responding to reason.
It would not have been such a struggle to get him to back down, long ago. West had always been bold and boisterous, but at least he always listened to reason. He was not sure when that changed, or why. It really had been a long time. Sometimes, Zuke still yearned for simpler days, when West and him were still tight, working together instead of against each other. No way go back to such a relationship with his brother now.
He raised a hand to his face and closed his eyes as he took the moment to metaphorically sit himself down and put his ailing mind to some measure of rest, because if he didn't at least attempt to do so his skull was going to implode sometime soon.
So.
First order of business: He had been dead for about two weeks.
He could live with that. It wasn’t ideal (honestly, no part of this situation was ideal) but at least it wasn’t like, four years after he was a goner. He was not sure there was anything he could’ve done for anyone by that point.
...Which was both a blessing and a curse. Two weeks? If anything ugly were to happen as a consequence to his death, it was gonna be around this timeframe, and Zuke was gonna get a front row seat to it.
‘But it also means if there is anything I can do about it, I’m still in a good position to stop it. I’m… afraid about what I might find about May and Eve, but I’m gonna have to face the facts if I want to do something right, and that’s that.
At least West seems to be doing okay.’
Zuke mused, glancing over to his brother as Aunty offered him a cold press for his black eye.
‘Well… mostly okay. -Kind- of okay. At least emotionally he doesn’t seem too hit?’
Second in priority order: Mayday was in hiding. Apparently she had been in hiding ever since the… thing that made him like this. And she had to be avoiding the sewers and sewer-dwellers too if they couldn’t catch a whiff or hair of hers either.
This was… bad.
Like, very bad.
May was not a hider. She was a rush in, confront head on, ‘bunka junka bam in your face and care about consequences later ’ type of problem solver. In her defense, it usually worked out pretty well for her. Sure, she tended to drag him into serious shenanigans, but she also was the one to get things done between the two of them. Honestly, if it were up to him? As confident in his drumming as he is (he was) he likely would’ve never had the courage to show up to the Lights Up Audition by himself. It was May who presented the idea and convinced him into it; left to his own devices he would’ve forever stuck to the underground scene- or worse, switched to EDM in an attempt to fit in.
If she was hiding from everyone altogether...
‘Then again,’ The drummer sighed to himself, ‘I suppose this is the one problem that cannot be junka’d away.’
Zuke wasn’t too surprised that May was hit hard by his absence. They were best of friends and almost family, maybe… maybe something more, if they had more time. The drummer never found the courage, or the right time, or a meaningful opportunity to ask.
Well... that possibility was well out of the window by this point. No sense depressing himself with what-ifs. At least he’d saved her some heartbreak.
He only hoped that when he got there, the damage wasn’t too horrible.
Third issue… and he couldn’t help but stare out at his older brother as Aunty seemed to deem her care done, leaving him with a drink as she went off to serve other customers.
West was looking for Mayday. He’d teamed up with the sewer dwellers (or at least DJ Zam) to do it.
When did West learn where their home was? Okay, so. They weren’t exactly too well hidden, true. Just hidden enough people blatantly looking for trouble would be turned away by Aunty or otherwise. But he still had to have come across somebody who could tell him that.
What did he want to do with Mayday? How did he meet their friends? Who were the guys back at the sewer? Zuke had so many questions, and no voice with which to speak them. It did not seem like West was particularly forthcoming with what he was doing anymore, either, slowly faceplanting onto the table with drink in hand now that he didn't have the adrenaline rush to carry him on. He did deserve the rest, to be fair.
‘Reminds me of finals week.’
Fourth, and certainly not least…
...Zuke was dead, but he wasn’t helpless.
He wasn’t helpless.
He wasn’t helpless!!
This was such an important gamechanger, and he was outright furious with Scratch for not mentioning it earlier. It would certainly have helped ease the doom and gloom lingering at the back of his head at least some.
True, yes, he was pretty limited on what he could do. Turn on lights. Turn on generators. Mess with anything electrical. It was not much, but it was something.
It certainly had made a difference for West.
And it was this realization that both filled him with energy and soothed his fraying mind like a balm.
Zuke didn’t need to be an absent spectator. He could actually fix things. He could do something! Be useful!
He could… say hello?
It was such a stupid idea. But the moment it popped into his mind he couldn’t let go of it. There was probably a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t do that, if he even could do that, as a dead guy who should want his loved ones to let go. But the thought clung to his mind like a vine.
“I could say hello. With a radio. Or a flashlight. Maybe light fixtures? As far as I know she doesn't know morse, but it’s worth a shot. She might recognize the patterns, right?”
West got up from his seat as Aunty took back his empty glass, stretching his back like some sort of gigantic cat. They had to have been talking for a while, Zuke guessed. He didn’t have a clock, and he didn't have any in sight either, but it had to be well past midnight.
“This is just my thoughts,” Aunty said at a low volume, “I’m not saying you cannot take care of yourself, but I don’t think the people here can handle another familiar face being gone. What happened to the kids hurt them enough, so don't.”
“Eleh, [not going to be diving into angry crowds anytime okay! You putting too much thought in this, too much. I’m here to groove, not make change. DK West is unforgettable of course, but heartbreak people meh? Ya kah?]”
“Lots of people here remember you from years ago, you know. You stand for more than just your music now, West. It would be a shame to disappoint them all.”
West seemed to be struck dumb for a moment before he frowned and glanced down, brushing back his braids with a massive hand.
“Ya. Would be a shame.” He rolled his shoulders. “[Think it's time to head back to my crib. Thanks for the drink, and, uh…]” He paused, palming the cold press over his bruised eye, “[...Everything else.]”
The words almost seemed foreign to Zuke’s ears, coming from West.
It really had been a while.
“No problem, dearie,” Aunty answered back in her higher pitched, kinder register. “Have a good night!”
As West grinned and struck a pose before retreating to his wagon, the ghostly drummer slipped back down from the lights circuit of the mamak into the wider power grid.
‘Yeah, I think you deserve to catch a nap. Night, brother. Please don't get into anymore trouble.’
For now, Zuke had a plan.