I was summoned by a super villainess to another universe

"I'm not gay."

 

 

 

The bartender behind the counter was half listening to Jack for the better part of the past twenty minutes as he mumbled about his troubles, but that comment stood out. She froze in the middle of polishing the counter and looked up, "Come again?"

 

Jack lifted up his drink and tossed it back, "Gay. Everyone looks at my suit and thinks I'm gay." He pointed his empty shot glass at the bartender and squinted questioningly, "I don't get it. Why does everyone even use that word? It used to mean happy, but it saw use as code to mean someone was homosexual." He gestured around the room at the few men who were in the bar, "But look at them. They're as gay as a Mexican hatband! Those clothes! Dear god in heaven, they are both loud and proud." He turned back to the bartender, "So how the fuck is THAT straight-" He leaned back to gesture up and down himself, "but this is gay?" He slammed down the glass a little too hard gaining a few people's glances, "Explain that to me."

 

The bartender squinted, then leaned her head back to look at the ceiling, "Ooo... that's a tough one." She scratched her chin, "Well... I think before the nineties it was reversed. People hated capes in the eighties. They had shows like The A-Team and Magnump that were all about meta hate. So back then 'gay' was associated with metas and bright clothing." She waggled her head back and forth, "Of course it was all the work of the devil."

 

Jack shook his head a little as if to clear it. He was feeling the buzz and was a little slow on the uptake, "Huh?"

 

She smiled in a patronizing and well practiced manner, "Well, those old shows were designed to turn people against metas. The hate became popular. In the shows back then, all the villains were metas and the-" She switched to talking in a pompous voice, "Pure Strain Humans!" She rolled her eyes and went back to talking normally, "Had to come in and save the day, don't cha know?"

 

"What's a Magnump?"

 

She looked a little shocked, then smiled again, "Ah. You'd be too young. It was a show about an Ex-FBI agent who lived in Hawaii and worked as a private investigator. You won't find any copies of the show these days. Been censored right out of existence. A-Team too. And that... what was it? The cop show..." She looked thoughtful then looked down the bar at a woman nursing her drink, "Hey! Cleo! You got a mind for trivia. What was the name of that show about undercover cops in Florida?"

 

At the corner of the bar was a large woman. Not fat, but tall and BUILT. She was pushing six and a half, easy. Dressed up in the brown uniform of a delivery driver, she looked like she was strong enough to carry most packages on her back. Her blond hair was cut short and covered by a baseball cap with 'UPDS' emblazoned on it. 

 

Cleo picked up her beer and moved closer, "Two cops going after drug dealers? You talkin' about Magic Vice? You can still find that on-line. They only had to nix two of the episodes. Impressive for the time, considering it had five seasons. It made syndication, I believe. A couple cop shows got past the censors when they got the TV stations up and running again. I think a few of the episodes needed to get chopped up, mind you."

 

Jack rubbed his face, "Wait... it sounds like you're talking about Magnum, P.I. and Miami Vice."

 

Cleo squinted, "Huh?"

 

The bartender hooked a thumb at Jack as she explained things to Cleo, "He's from a parallel Earth." She turned back to Jack, "We don't talk about what happened to Miami."

 

Jack blinked, "What happened to Miami?"

 

Cleo sighed and shook her head, "Bad business that."

 

The conversation went quiet for a while before Jack spoke up, "Did you guys have a cartoon called G.I. Joe?"

 

They both looked at him, "Huh?"

 

Jack started talking with his hands, "It was a children's cartoon about this crack team of anti-terrorists who fought the evil international terrorist organization COBRA. They had a guy with a silver mask helmet and Destro and laser guns and all sort of crap."

 

Cleo looked speechless to the point of offense.

 

The bartender covered her mouth for a few moments and cleared her throat before she spoke, "Wait... they made a kid's show about COBRA in your world? Wow."

 

Jack squinted with one eye and pulled away, "What?"

 

Cleo lifted her mug and spoke into it before taking a long pull, "Who do you think took Miami off the map?"

 

"No more Miami?" He stared down at his empty shot glass, "I went on spring break to Miami once. Nice place and not as hot as people said. Met a girl there..." He went quiet for a while, "I think I'll need another shot." He tapped it on the counter a few times, "So... did they rebuild it?"

 

Cleo shrugged and motioned for another beer, "Well, kinda hard with most of the coast line missing. But around the bay that formed where Miami once stood, they made Magic City, so named because they built it with literal magic."

 

The bartender nodded as she poured Jack another shot, "Another Anti-Christ plot, apparently. Blame the metas, make them seem evil, make magic users seem like the good guys. After all, magic is just SCIENCE by another name! Metas are filthy mutants. Keep Humanity Pure!"

 

Cleo snorted, "Yeah, right up until we found out most of the magic users were corrupted from the get go and became living portals into Hell itself."

 

Jack blinked, "Wait. What? Is that why wizards, witches and what not are so rare?"

 

The bartended nodded, "Yeah. Apparently the anti-christ had been preparing the way for decades before he arrived. He released a series of tomes that made it easy to learn magic... except everyone who learned magic from those books were effectively a walking time bomb."

 

Cleo nodded, "They started teaching it to kids in school." She opened her eyes wide, "I was in school when it started. Not all the kids were picking it up, but the smart ones were. I remember-"

 

The bartender slammed the beer bottle down on the counter in front of Cleo a bit harder than was required. The conversation ground to a halt as the bartender muttered, "On the house."

 

Cleo smiled ruefully, "Sam, yer too good to me."

 

Jack squinted, "Long shot. Did the world ever get invaded by giant robots that could transform into various machines? Like, from a robot into a car and back again. The Autobots against the Decepticons from the planet Cybertron?"

 

They both just stared for a few seconds in silence then burst out laughing. Cleo grinned, "Giant robots from outer space invading the world???" Sam just shook her head, "No. Nothing like that. Another TV show from your world?"

 

Jack laughed in that nervous sort of way that you do when you realize you said something stupid, "Uh... yeah. It was a kids cartoon. Kinda silly. Was just curious. They usually showed it along side G.I. Joe." He motioned for another drink. He sat there in awkward silence as the next drink queued up. He eyed it as it appeared in front of him and muttered, "This world sucks."

 

Cleo looked offended by Jack's remark, "Hey. It's not all bad. There's a lot of good things here as well."

 

Jack eyed her, "Like what?"

 

Sam shrugged and grinned at the same time, "Like love." Jack stared at the bartender who stared back, "Oh, c'mon! Love is grand. You ever been in love?"

 

Jack frowned, "I'm not in love with Ivy. I just met her."

 

Cleo looked at Jack, then turned to Sam, "Who's Ivy?"

 

Sam snapped her fingers, "Wait. That's the giant green lass all over Tweeter, right?" She furrowed her eyebrows, "I thought she was dating that sexy angel guy who's been flashing his pecs to all over the city."

 

Jack glared at the bartender, "She ain't dating Adam." He spoke through gritted teeth, "She's dating ME."

 

Sam raised her hands defensively, "Hey. Don't tell me. Tell Tweeter."

 

Jack abruptly let his head fall forward and hit his forehead dramatically against the counter. The two women next to him looked at each other and shrugged. Sam leaned on the counter with one elbow to get closer to Jack, "Sounds like you got it bad."

 

"How could I have it bad? Nobody falls in love at first sight. That's a myth." Jack mumbled into the counter.

 

Cleo grinned, "DEFINITELY in love."

 

Sam looked thoughtful as she straightened up, "Usually when someone has it as bad as you, it's because something dramatic happened."

 

Cleo sipped her beer, "Or she reminds you of your mother. Guys with mommy issues fall in love with women who remind them of mom all the time."

 

Sam rolled his head to the side to glare at Cleo, "I do not have-" He cut himself off. Instead of speaking, he laid there with his cheek on the bar and furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, "Huh. That's odd."

 

Cleo gave Jack a sideways glance, "Struck a chord?"

 

Jack squinted, "I'm really drunk. I can't remember what mom looked like." He slowly sat up and gestured to Sam, "My complements on keeping the bar clean. My face didn't stick at all." She burst out laughing. Cleo just smirked.

 

Jack looked from one to the other, "Seriously? Is that my super power in this dimension? I'm funny? Or do you people have no idea what comedy is?" The two women looked at each other and shrugged.

 

"Well..." Sam paused to pull out a rag and polish the bar, "I dunno. You just seem funny."

 

Cleo's face scrunched up as she looked like she was giving the question serious consideration, "Well... I would have to say that the quality of approved entertainment has dipped somewhat in recent days." She rocked her head from side to side a few times then added, "Not a lot of male comedians either. Guys just don't deal well with rejection and being a comedian requires a willingness to put up with abuse." She snorted and grinned, "Most male comedians out there just make jokes about how terrible women are, so who wants to go watch that?"

 

Sam sighed, "Music sucks as well. It's like one sentence repeated fifty times set to a techno beat." She shook her head dismissively, "Damn censors."

 

Jack listened to their complaints, then went quiet. After a few minutes he turned to eye the small stage in the corner. He looked thoughtfully at his drink for a while before he tossed it back and winced, "That microphone in the corner work?" He asked Sam in an off-handed way.

 

Sam looked at the corner, "Uh... maybe? Haven't seen it used recently. Been at least two or three months. Why you... ask?" Her voice trailed off as Jack put his glass down and started walking towards the stage. He called out loudly over his shoulder, "You guys are lucky I only do karaoke when I'm drunk."

 

A group of women drinking together after getting off of work glanced at Jack as he walked past. One commented, "Guys?" and glanced around the joint. It was at maybe ten percent capacity and with the exception of two guys, exclusively, casually drinking women.

 

The bartender straightened up, "Uhhh... hate to disappoint, but we don't have a karaoke machine."

 

Jack grabbed the microphone and it lit up with a red aura. The aura shot down the line and into the entire PA system, "Then I'll just have to fake it." The system briefly squealed with feedback as he tapped the microphone a few times, "Testing... testing..." He held out the microphone and it spun around dramatically in his hand before he grasped it firmly and held it to his mouth, "Goooooooooooood evening, Empire City! I ain't heard a decent song since I got to this backwater universe, so let's have some fun, shall we?"

 

Cleo eyed Sam who was looking rather confused.

 

Some of the audience turned to look at Jack with a combination of puzzlement and curiosity. A few 'check out the drunk boy' and 'this should be fun' comments were made to indicate they weren't expecting much. Jack smirked and pointed at the room in a sweeping gesture, "If you gotta go tap a kidney, now's the time because you ain't gonna wanna miss a second of this." This got a few chuckles, but nobody took him up on the offer. Jack shrugged, "Alrightie then..." The spotlight turned on and the room started to dim. With a burst of sound, the speakers started blaring brass.

 

Cleo turned back to Sam, "I thought you said you didn't have a karaoke machine."

 

Sam shook her head as she muttered back, "We don't." She sounded rather incredulous, "I haven't even turned the system on."

 

Jack cradled the microphone in both hands, closed his eyes and started to belt out his best Dean Martin, "Oh How lucky could one man be? I kissed her and she kissed me! Like the fellow once said..." He spun around and pointed at the nearest woman to the stage.

 

 

"Ain't love a kick in the head?"

 

 

---

 

 

For the next hour the crowd was treated to a performance that would be the envy of any Las Vegas lounge act. Not that a Las Vegas Lounge act was a particularly high bar, but Jack had a rather innate sense of style. Regardless of the quality, the crowd ate it up.

 

They were a bunch of working class slobs taking a break after a long day at work. A few guys past their prime here and there getting free drinks and attention. The room originally had a sense of resigned sadness about it, but for about an hour, they forgot how disappointing life was as Jack totally hammed it up. He did a couple tricks here and there, scattered some trivial sleight of hand tricks and a few corny jokes in-between songs. Nothing special, but the crowd seemed to like it.

 

He decided to wrap it up with a little Sinatra and was floored at how the crowd seemed to be hanging on his every word. By the end he was sweating up a storm as he poured everything into one last song. It has been something about the synergy of the room. Him feeding off the room and them giving back. It didn't hurt that he seemed to have a real knack for reading the room.

 

 

---

 

 

"For what is a man? What has he got?" Jack cradled the microphone with both hands. His head was bowed forward leaving his face in shadow, "If not himself, then he has naught!" He slowly started to raise his head, "To say the things... he truly feels." He fixed his jaw as he held out a fist, "And not the words... of one who kneels!"

 

He raised his head to stare right into the spot light as the rest of the room dimmed, "The record shows... I took the blows!" The music swelled to a crescendo then suddenly cut out completely, "And I did it..."

 

In the silent room, all one could hear was Jack take one final ragged breath. As he continued, his words were soft, like he was whispering into your ear.

 

 

 

"My... Way."

 

 

 

The light cut out completely as he let his head fall forward into darkness.

 

There was just a moment of silence before the crowd went wild with applause. Something was off. Jack brought the lights back up as he turned to hang up the microphone. He noticed the room was packed. Apparently Sam had propped open the doors and people had come filtering in off the street as the show went on. He had failed to notice how full the room was getting due to being in the spotlight. He just assumed everyone was moving closer to hear better.

 

He was taken off guard as people started to stand up and clap louder, people begging for more. However, Jack was suddenly feeling entirely too self-conscious. He had started as a drunk guy playing to a half empty bar. This was a bit much. He waved off any offers to buy him a drink and made his way through the crowd. In the back of his head he was starting to get paranoid. People weren't nice to him. People didn't smile at him. He wasn't popular. He told himself it was because he was in an alternate universe with different rules, but that didn't help to fight down the rising panic.

 

Cleo pushed her way through the crowd and by her sheer presence cleared away a space around Jack, "Hey! Stop Crowding! Give the star some room!" She grabbed Jack by the hand and pulled him towards one end of the bar where there was some room. She glanced back at Jack, "You okay?"

 

Jack blinked a bit and didn't say anything until he was sitting at the bar, "What the fuck just happened?"

 

"Hold on, I'll get ta you!" Sam came over waving off some customers in the process, "Hey! Hell of a set of lungs on you! You wanna come back like, every Friday and Saturday night?"

 

Jack blinked at the bartender, "What? For my drunken karaoke?"

 

Sam laughed and looked at Cleo, "'Drunken Karaoke' He says!" She looked back at Jack, "Guy, I know a quality act when I see one! And those songs? Never heard anything like them. I mean, it's like those old Sunny Doris songs you hear on the old time radio, but I never heard lyrics like that! Powerful stuff!" She looked into the distance, "I did it... MY WAY." She slowly shook her head, "I'm not ashamed to admit it..." She started nodding, "I teared up for a second. I did."

 

Cleo nodded along, "You write your own stuff?"

 

Jack blinked, "That was Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra's stuff. I didn't write any of it."

 

Sam and Cleo both slowly looked at each other with eyes that grew wide, then Sam gave Cleo a wink, "Hold on. I called in someone from the kitchen to help with the crowd. Let me get her up to speed." She fell back and started to talk to the other person who wasn't doing so hot on her own.

 

Jack blinked some more, then looked at Cleo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"What am I missing?"