Entering the Lollipop.

Despite the town’s population having taken a hit, this place was still packed. That same group of Japanese monsters, team Yokai, was on the karaoke stage singing. This time, the red Oni creature was onstage belting out “Careless Whisper” by George Michael. The male demon’s name was Yuto.

We’d re-muted Akuma and left him with about 2% health as we left the back room. I hadn’t finished asking him questions, but an imp entered the room and started flipping out about the dead imp on the counter, and we all had to leave. I exchanged a fist bump with the war mage to get him into my chat, and it worked. He said it would only work if he was on the same floor as me.

We left, but not before Louis got his milkshake and Prepotente excitedly picked up his pile of about two hundred sodas, all in tall glasses with colorful straws. Each one, apparently, gave a different buff.

When Louis drank his milkshake, the water that occasionally blew from his gills turned red and smelled like strawberry. He was getting it everywhere.

I continued to ask Akuma question after question in chat, but he wasn’t answering me except to tell me I was annoying him.

I didn’t trust him. I didn’t want to believe him. But his mention of Herot, plus Eris’s insistence that he did have a way to escape, kept me on the hook. So for right now, the plan was to trust but verify every step along the way.

Our immediate plan was to gather volunteers who were willing and able to travel to this Pineapple Cabaret and fight. Prepotente and Mordecai were going to try to figure out this shop-interface exploit, and I was going to task some of the strippers with returning to the Desperado Club to try to figure out the other method of opening a portal to the Cabaret.

All of this brought me back to the impossible problem I had with Emberus, Hellik, and now Eris.

I put my hand on Donut, reveling in her warmth, going over everything we had to do.

I was frustrated with the whole design of this floor, especially since everything was so dangerous. It was too rigid, too time consuming. Everything we needed to do, we could only do between races. I missed our ability to just bounce around the map at will.

The chat was moving fast with people discussing the confusing conversation with the war mage.

Dozens of people were asking for a concise explanation of what was going on. Donut was in the chat, laying it out for everyone.

Donut: SO THIS PINEAPPLE PLACE IS LIKE A SUPER-NICE SAFE ROOM, BUT FOR NPCS. HE SAYS WE CAN GO THERE AND NOT GET SQUISHED WHEN THE FLOOR COLLAPSES, BUT WE’LL BE STUCK THERE. ONLY IT’S NOT SAFE ANYMORE BECAUSE IT GOT TAKEN OVER BY OGRES AND OTHER BAD GUYS. SO THIS WAR MAGE WANTS US TO CLEAN IT OUT FOR HIM, AND IN EXCHANGE HE THINKS WE CAN MAYBE GET OUT TO EARTH. BUT HOW THAT WORKS OR HOW WE GET THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE IS A LITTLE UNCLEAR. ALSO ELLE CRUSHED HIS RIGHT TESTICLE. SHE TURNED IT TO ICE AND SMASHED IT!

Louis: I think it was his left one!

Donut: WELL, NOW IT’S HIS ONLY ONE.

I wasn’t certain if Rosetta would know who Herot was since he came after her in the cookbook. She didn’t react to the name-drop, but the mention of Menerva clearly meant something to her, as she asked me a dozen questions. But she was hesitant to tell me more. Menerva wasn’t a cookbook author, but if she had truly given up everything to work with Herot, then I knew she was an ally. I just needed a way to talk to her.

We only had a few hours left. But if we could get to this other Corcunda, we could get this Dong quest buttoned up as well. It was now crucial that we complete it.

Tipid had a surprisingly deep knowledge about hidden guildhalls. More so than Mordecai and Mistress Tiatha combined, both of whom literally worked in guildhalls when they weren’t on manager duty.

And he insisted that this stage performance guild would be hidden here in the Lollipop.

Tipid hadn’t been with us at the C&W&U, but he was here now at the bar. I went to sit next to him while the others piled into their regular corner.

I hadn’t talked too much to him after he’d had his memory wiped, and I felt guilty about it.

“I don’t know about this thing with the war mages,” Tipid said as I slid in next to him. He motioned to the gremlin barkeeper, who started pouring a second beer. “Under normal circumstances, the mere mention of any of this would be met with a severe beatdown from both the AI and the showrunners.”

“Yeah, it’s all off the rails,” I said. I nodded at the barkeeper. I started to take a sip but hesitated. This was a different beer than the one Imani had vetted last time we were in here.

Tipid grunted. “This one gives a 2% constitution bump for the next race. You’re fine. Don’t eat the peanuts, though.”

I took a sip. It was delicious. I received a notification about the constitution buff.

“I don’t know who Menerva is,” Tipid continued. “She might’ve been a season before my time. But I do remember watching Herot during my time as a game guide.” He paused and then tapped the bar thoughtfully. “Wasn’t one of mine, but I remember that season. Was a lot like you. Little fucker was a real thorn in the side of . . .” He started thinking. “I can’t remember who was running that season. Maybe the orcs. Anyway, I would trust anything that little lizard says. Smart bugger. Always had a giant crowd of NPCs with ’em. You gotta find a way to talk to them directly if you can. War mages are evil fuckers. It’s possible they’re working together, but more likely they’ll use you to clear out that floor and will kill the lot of you to take it all for themselves. That war mage also mentioned shadow mimics. That’s probably the true problem. Dealing with those guys is gonna be a real chore.”

“Isn’t that what Mordecai really is on this floor?”

“Yep, but it’s glitching out. It’s impossible for him to be both a changeling and a shadow mimic. Changelings can’t even touch mimics. And shadow mimics don’t get the skills of those they copy, so it’s just plain broken. But it also means there might be one or two of those running around this floor. So be careful.”

I nodded.

Imani, Chris, and Elle entered the bar with a newcomer in tow. This was a tall, thin human with flowing robes. A fleshmancer. Imani just hired him as a mercenary, and the plan was to keep him hidden in their guild until he was needed.

Onstage, the skeleton guy with the pope hat finished his song.

“That was ‘White Wedding’ as sung by the Minister of Blood-Letting. Next up is Tipid . . . Oh. Next up is Tipid singing ‘Love Shack’ by the B-52s.”

Tipid stood. “Okay, I can’t sing, so this isn’t going to work. But if my theory is correct, a gauge will appear above me when I sing. If that happens, then we know the guild is here.”

Donut started shouting loud encouragement as Tipid moved to the stage, then took the microphone from the skeleton man. He turned to face us and bowed, and the song started.

He was correct. He could not sing. But sure enough, a magical gauge going from red to yellow to green appeared over him, kinda similar to the gauge on the Guitar Hero game. It never left the red.

I groaned. I could already see where this was going.

There was polite applause when he was done, and he returned to his spot at the bar. Donut came rushing up.

“That was fantastic!” she exclaimed. “I love that song! You did such a great job! Even the evil pope guy liked it! What was that needle thingy! How do I get one of those?”

Prepotente also approached. He was drinking one of his sodas with the striped straw, sipping loudly. The bartender glared at him. “Excellent performance,” he said.

“Yeah, so,” Tipid said. He grabbed the stapled-together binder off the counter and slid it over. It was the book one used to pick songs for karaoke. “There’s a secret mark on a handful of songs. If you pick the right song, it’ll engage the entrance sequence for the guild. If you can get through the entire song with your needle in the green, you will gain access.” He paused. “Only those who get the green needle the whole time will be able to enter. So if you want in, you gotta sing.”

“Great,” I said.

Donut was bouncing up and down. She moved to the binder. “This is great! What an amazing way to have a secret door! It’s just like with bard magic. How do we find the songs! It’s too bad it’s only from the stupid 1980s. Isn’t everyone from that era dead already?” She gasped. “Wait, are there any Whitney Houston songs?” She gasped a second time, even louder. “Celine Dion! What about Celine Dion?”

“I’m pretty sure Celine Dion got famous in the 90s,” I said.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right. She did the song for that one movie where that lady let her homeless boyfriend drown.” Her eyes got big. “Stevie Nicks! Was she in the 1980s?”

I laughed. “I’m pretty sure she had some 80s hits, yes.”

“Celine Dion first charted in Canada in 1981,” Prepotente said. “But that was in French. She didn’t chart in the United States, and in English, until 1990 with her Unison album. It’s not likely there are any of her songs in that binder, but it is worth a look. Carl, what type of music do you like anyway?”

“Don’t even ask,” Donut said. “It’s quite embarrassing.”

“How in the hell do you know all that about Celine Dion?” I asked.

“I know a lot of things, Carl,” Prepotente said. He left his empty soda glass on the counter and pulled a second one out. This one smelled distinctly like grape. He started sipping loudly. “That’s what happens when you’re intelligent. You know things.”

“That’s not intelligence,” I said. “That’s⁠—”

“Hey! You! No outside drinks!” the bartender said.

I quickly covered my ears. I didn’t do it fast enough. Prepotente screamed right next to my face, causing Donut to yowl, Tipid to say “What the hell?” and the gremlin to fall back. The kappa onstage paused her song and shot a glare our way.

“Okay, goat boy,” the gremlin said, irritated, as he pulled himself up. “Drink it outside!”

“But this is a drinking establishment!”

“Yeah. One where you’re only allowed to eat and drink things you bought here. No outside food. This ain’t a charity. You like that new fancy restaurant so much, go drink your stuff over there.”

Prepotente huffed. “I will not frequent an establishment where I’m not wanted!” He turned and stormed outside.

I sighed, turning my attention to Donut, who started flipping through the book. “What’s the secret mark?” She let out a little squeal. “Ohh, Queen. I could probably do a good Freddie Mercury! I think we have the same range.”

Carl: Mordecai, remember that potion we were talking about before? The bard one? We’re going to need some.

Mordecai: Tipid warned me. They’re brewing now, but they won’t be ready until just before the next race.