One-way street to the Damned.

"We're here, finally! The S.I.T!" Astaflor pointed vigorously at the building.

"So... this would be here where we would finally put a stop to the El Vibrato techs and such?" Becky asked, seemingly relieved, with Obie following behind them.

"Possibly! We just have to make sure that the students there didn't tinker with the techs already. To their classroom!" 

The time traveler was the first one to jump, kicking the door open to the faculty. She dashed forward, and would unmistakingly be spotted by the university staff that would try to refrain her for exploring the facility any further. 

As they would be crossing the halls of the university, Astaflor would be dashing past the students, while Becky and Obie would have a hard time following her. In fact, they would begin to lose track of her, as the crowd would thicken around them, of passing students that would move around, as it was recess.

"Argh! We're losing her!" Becky cried, as they would try making their way past the students, but them being outnumbered, they were getting bumped in all sorts of places instead.

"We'll have to make our way through, like snakes in coils," Obie pointed out, as he would gesture to them. "Follow me, I know a couple cuts."

"You know a couple cuts? Oh, it's true, you studied there as well."

Becky complied to it and followed his guidance, as they would make it across one corridor to another, shuffling through doors, one by one. And just as they were about to catch up with Astaflor again, Obie's head would shift to his left, as he would see signs pointing at certain rooms, written on the glass of the doors presented to him.

*Eh, college. My prime and rise,* he thought, as he would keep running. *A time where I was really foolish as well. Now, wasn't that the Barbecue wing we just crossed? Then, that would mean that... just there, there is...!*

*Steam Tunnels Access*

As he would read these words on the door, the realization would strike like lightening in his chest, then coursing all over his body, giving him shockwaves. Just by this door, that he is now facing, he saw there an opportunity to be able to face all his problems once again, and possibly... see a couple familiar faces he wished not to see again. But the temptation here was strong. He was this close, he couldn't miss that opportunity again.

Suddenly, he would grab Becky's wrist. The Tin Lizzy turned around abruptly, noticing him wanting to talk with them. He would now look at them with an intrigued look, though his signature smile did not fall a bit from his mug.

"Hold up a sec'. I need to make a pit stop, so to speak," he would then tell them.

"Like, now...?" They said, sounding desperate, before they pointed at a door and said: "I think I saw a restroom back-"

"No, no, not like that," Obie shook his head. "There's a bar near here that I used to play at. I... I gotta go hash somethin' out with the manager."

"Oh, okay," they replied, as he would then pique their curiosity. A bar, in this high-standards college? Don't mind if they do!

"Is it cool? I could use a drink. Man, I'm so damn thirsty."

"It is not cool. My friend, it is the *opposite* of that."

Obie's expression has now faded. Once so playful and full of charisma, he would now look at them dead in the eye, with a serious look on his face. He would then turn to a sour frown, as he would ramble in his mind.

*Please. I will never let anyone ever fall back to that rat trap again. Not even someone like that kid. They don't deserve that. It will not cause any harm again as I return there, I hope.*

Becky's face now also turned gloomy. This was the first time they would see him so grave like this. What happened to their hobo friend? Should they let him know? Should they keep it to themselves? And what about Astaflor, while they're at it.

"... Huh. Is it in the S.I.T steam tunnels or something? You know, since you pointed there."

"Bit deeper."

"Are you sure I *can't* come with you? It really did sound fun."

"Look, Becky. I'm gonna be frank here: if it weren't for these hooligans down there, you bet I would've loved to bring ya there. But good'ol Obie can't do this to ya. You're not ready for this. You'll never be. I prefer you not getting tangled in this spider web, alright? Plus, there's Astaflor."

"Oh, true that- but... where do I need to go? So I can catch up with her?"

"See that door over there, at the end of the corridor? Just go there, and exit the building from there. The labs should be a few meters north, past the road."

"Okay. Hey, Obie?"

"What?"

"If you say this place is as dangerous as it looks... please, be careful out there."

Obie couldn't help, at this moment, but crack a smile once more, as he would tip his hat at them. *Man, I really like this kid.*

"Heh. You can count on me, good'ol Obie for ya. I'm now out."

Oboe in hand, he waved at them and entered the access to the steam tunnels, while Becky would dash forward, fighting their way with the crowd, to make it to their destination.

---

*Well, here ya are, Obie -- back in the Infernal Racket, after however long it's been. Thought you'd seen the back of this place, didn't ya? Thought you was cool and slick as an oiled iceberg. Turns out you were a fool, same as every fool who ever got scammed by this racket from here to eternity.*

There he was now, facing the metallic door, with the pentagram drawn on it. He never thought he'd return back to it, but figured he'd eventually come back here, at some point. At least, he hoped it would be the last time. He took a deep breath in, holding on the doorknob, clenching it tightly in his fingers with a gulp.

*Time to see if there's any way to salvage this situation. But like the man said, it's gonna be hell to pay.*

Then, with one fell swoop, he would open the door to the place. Already, he would notice that the atmosphere did not change a bit. 

The red candles were still lit up, as if never used before, and leaving the room in an ambiant semi-darkness, which left the background unsettling. The tables were still occupied with horned-humanoid figures, possibly demons and imps. The radio played statics at intervals, sometimes playing some form of *Dies Irae* that sounded like pure Hell to his ears. At last, he had made it. He closed the door behind him.

As he would step further into the Infernal Racket, he would hear a whistle calling to him. He turned around, and would notice two women with horns as well, dressed in the tightest of leathery outfits, their hair flicked back perfectly, and their legs in plain sight. They would murmur words to him, and speak to him in a sultry tone of voice:

"Heyyyy, handsome~" one with glasses spoke to him, trailing her finger on her glass. "Need some time hangin' around? Perhaps you'd like a drink~?"

"Sorry ladies, got no time to dilly-dally with succubi," Obie declined the offer, as he stepped away from them.

"Oh, c'mon~ you're not even gonna sit with us?" Another one - a blonde, crazy-eyed one, wriggled her finger to him, almost clinging onto his ragged cloak.

"I insist, I have business to attend to," he then abruptly turned to face the counter, as the succubi would scoff and look away. 

And facing the counter, was no other than the bartender. Slick black hair, slick black mustache, slick black horns with the bowtie, tuxedo, and all that followed. All in the flesh and bones; it was *him* who he was looking for.

"Afternoon... *Llyod*," he called him over, now pulling out his most intimidating stare - which did not faze the demon one bit, by the way, who simply looked at him with a crooked grin as he said:

"Well, if it isn't dear old Obie O'Brien!" He rejoiced, stretching his arms at him. "What brings you back to our little establishment, after all this time?"

"I 'spect you know the answer to that already," he pulled out the contract and slapped it on the bar. Llyod looked nonchalantly at it, as he was cleaning a beermug.

"Hmm hmm hmm. Getting older, are we? Don't feel as invincible as you used to when you were young? Or have you gotten tangled up in something dangerous and think the end might be coming sooner than you... bargained for?"

"I want *out*, Llyod," Obie now glared at him sinisterly. The bartender feigned forming a surprised expression on his face, then smirked smugly at him.

"Obie, this contract is iron-clad," he said. "*Virtuoso musical ability in exchange for your immortal soul upon death* is as traditional an exchange as they come. It's a bona-fide classic. There's no wiggling out of this one, my friend."

"Virtuoso musical ability *and all the wealth and fortune that comes with it*," he corrected, tapping on the contract once more. "Don't tell me you forgot already?"

"I never said how much that would be. Come now, Obie! I thought you *enjoyed* the hobo lifestyle!"

"Why you..." he clenched his fists tightly to his taunting, resisting the urge to just deliver a punching pie straight to his face just about now. Llyod smirked again cunningly.

"Obie, buddy -- I like you, and that's no lie," he waved off with a hand on his chest. "You played some incredible tunes for us, back in the day. But a deal's a deal."

"... I claim Right of Challenge."

A silence. A silence in which Obie carried his words with his mere eyes that burned like a thousand suns, and Llyod would stammer, as if completely taken aback.

"I- Right of *Challenge*? My word, where did you hear about that? Well, it's a shame, but Right of Challenge doesn't apply-"

*"Ahem."*

Another demon cleared his throat as he would turn on his chair; his beard full of blond would motion along his lips as he would speak.

"Ah, didn't mean to eavesdrop, but demonic contract law is my particular field of expertise, and he does in fact have access to Right of Challenge in this case. There's precedent in *Scratch v. Webster, Mephistopheles v. Faust, and Unnamed Devil v. Johnny.*"

"Two of those haven't even happened yet!" The bartender protested, hissing at the juridist.

"They still count. Sorry Llyod, rules are rules."

Obie, during this whole ordeal, would remain calm and expressionless. But deep down, he was thankful for that demon guy to have interviened between the two of them- he was glad at least this would not end into a bloodbath, or any unholy ritual like with these guys, with their bones piling up in a stack, next to the bartender. Said demon would stammer a bit more, before he cleared his throat, to appear the most formal possible.

"Hmm. Well, well. All right, Obie, I'm in a good mood today, and like I said, I like you. So I'll give you as fair a challenge as anyone ever got from me."

"What's that?" The oboe player asked intriguingly.

"Get out there and play us a set like you used to, and if everyone here agrees you deserve it, you can keep your soul *and* your music."

"... Okay, Llyod. You got a deal."

He would now step in the middle of the room. Suddenly, the candles blew out, leaving the room in complete darkness, until another spot of light switched on, this time on Obie's face. He would feel his heart pumping in his chest, but his hands and face remained sturdy. He was now ready.

He placed the obeo on his lips and blew, perhaps one of the slicket sets he has ever played so far. He would let the notes glide through the instruments and coil around the ears of each demons. The melody would resonnate through the souls and bodies of all, with only him as the center of attention. All eyes were on him, as he would give it his all.

To him, it just felt natural. He was *destined* to be a musician. This was why he would sign up in Meta-Accoustics as a minor in S.I.T, to begin with. But well, life had to be upside down for him, and one way or another, his grades would suddenly go downwards. He had to go back and forth, in order to work harder and give it more. But still, it never felt enough for his professors. This is where he had the misfortune to stumble upon the Infernal Racket, during one of his usual nightly rehearsals, at the steaming tunnels. He saw this offer- very convincing at first. He would be rich, he would be able to finally pursue his dreams of becoming a renowned musician... but at what cost?

His soul, all of his savings, his shack at the Big Moist, and his expelled note from S.I.T. *It was* what he costed him for him to be in the lime light. 

Did he regret all of this? Absolutely, because this led to nothing but a life of poverty in the end. And was he going to reclaim his honor, so he could finally live to his fullest, away from all that was haunting him?

*Absolutely.*

After blowing off some notes, which clearly did not leave his audiance indifferent, he would now stop, and waited. A few seconds later, all of the imps around him were now praising him, cheering him loudly and clapping; it was an astounishing success! Even Llyod couldn't help but clap himself. This was the consecration for Obie, more than he could possibly imagine. He thanked his otherworldly audience, before he turned back to the bartender, a cocky grin on his face. The candles were back to normal when Llyod would bow at him.

"Obie, I gotta hand it to you -- when you're hot, you're hot. And I know hot," Llyod replied as he took the contract off the bar and tore it up.

"There you go, my man -- you're as free as the wind blows. Come back and visit us sometime, though, okay?"

"Stranger things've happened. Thanks, Llyod."

He tipped his hat at him, then turned around. He would notice the blond-beared demon, who would nod at him acknowledgely. He nodded back at him and said:

"Thanks for your help back there, fella. You really saved my hash."

"Aw, don't mention it. Just doing my job," he would then smirk at Obie. "Say, now that you're a free man, can I interest you in a-"

*"Nope!"* 

That had the worth, at least, to be frank and direct.

"Ha ha, okay. Had to try!"

Obie sighed as he would turn to the door, ready to leave. But... something prevented him from doing so. A demonic figure with short brown hair, brown beard and square glasses. Huh, now he felt like he's seen this name before... wasn't it something along the lines of Denny Badman?

. . .

"Okay. Now to get to the band."

Obie whistled as he would placed his oboe in hand, and walked across the campus, to get to the Robots Labs. He just hoped he didn't put this damsel and this kid into a delicate situation, for being gone for so long. He would step closer, but as he was about to knock on the door, he would realize that it was ajar. He simply pushed it open, and would notice Astaflor and Becky both worse for wear, with a black tar he assumed to be oil mixed with sweat on their faces and clothes. He would clear his throat, but barely as he began to speak, Becky would turn their head to him, and their weary expression would soon illuminate upon his sight. They abruptly rushed to him, bouncing on their feet excitedly. Obie couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at such an amusing sight, as he would watch them do.

"Oh, hey Obie," they'd breathe out. "How'd your meeting go?"

"... Better than I had any reason to expect, my friend! *Much* better, in fact."

He would contemplate them a bit, before reaching a hand to their head, ruffling their hair a little. Becky jumped, but didn't fight back regardless, actually finding this interaction to be comforting for them as they would laugh. They would let out a soft hum, before they stretched, holding on his hand.

"We took care of the El Vibrato tech, meanwhile," Astaflor replied as she swiped her brow. "As it turned out, these kids already built like a robot or two with my tech. But we got that sorted out- these robots won't be able to invade this timeline ever again, at least not in a millena or so."

"Well, great!" Becky rejoiced, now turning their head to the both of them. "Ready to head out?"

"You said it! Let's hit the road!" Obie exclaimed, rising his obeo up.

"To Plunkett Street we go, to celebrate our victory!"

The trio agreed and cheered, and, together, walked away to the scrapped metal bites, to the bus stop.