Obviously, I'm keeping the nickel. I fold it into a sheet of paper, write "First Royalty Check", and store it in the glovebox. Since there's a time limit, I look at the list of available instruments from my reward. It's long. It's going to let me make two choices and there are plenty of things on here I have never even heard of. I'm going to stick to basics. "I choose guitar and piano." A flood of information, both useful and not, enters my mind. I'm holding my head and swaying for about five minutes before it stops. I try not to smear my makeup.
I pick up my guitar and it's like a whole different connection. Ten thousand hours of practice in five minutes of time. I have had my reservations about the system, but this part has my unbridled support. Now it's time to answer a question that has been bothering me for a while. I rummage through Clementine's trunk looking for a measuring tape. I find a small one in the toolbox and take it into the rest stop bathroom. I stand against the wooden stall door and mark my height with my hunting knife.
"Add one Available Stat Point into Body"
I ache all over and I can hear strange clicks and twangs from every part of myself. It's over quick and I re-mark my height on the door. I use the tape measure and frown at the math. I'm 6'4" now. I think I'm growing one inch for each increase in my Body. That could eventually be a problem. Surely, it levels off eventually.
Actually, I don't even know how high my Level can go. Maybe five is the max or ten, or ten thousand. Too many unanswered questions, but I feel like investing in Body is not a bad choice. Wearing makeup is eventually going to cause me problems. I would love to have a bodyguard, but those days are far off, if ever.
"System."
*
Name: Sam "Deadman" Jones
Race: Human
Body: 4 / Mind: 2 / Spirit: 2
Available Stat Points: 0
Level: 3
Class: Wandering Bard
Class Features: Musical Talent (Mastered: Voice/Guitar/Piano), Free Movement
Professions: Bard, Fisherman, Detective, Soldier, Hunter, Automotive Repair, Gambler
Talents: Hyper-Perception / Beloved by Machines / Spatial Storage
Detriments: Inexorable Truth / Strange Luck
*
"Ok Ok. Not bad. The character sheet is filling out."
A college age redhead with glasses pushes through the bathroom door and stops when he sees me standing with painted face and a hunting knife. We stare at each other for a moment. I look him up and down. "Where's your robe? The sacrifice will be here any minute. Hail Satan!"
I pick my teeth in the mirror as I listen to his car peel out and race towards the highway at ridiculous speeds. "God, I love living in a world without cell phones! Whelp, I better start heading towards the cantina. Don't want to be late for my second show."
I arrive at the Rock Creek Cantina parking lot at 7:50pm. I timed it so that I wouldn't have enough time to chicken out. I know myself. I already finished the mission. Why should I bother doing something that makes me scared? Because I already said I would do it and I want that sweet exp. "Because that's what a man does." I touch up my makeup and I'm ready to rock.
Makeup, check. Sunglasses, check. Black outfit, check. Guitar, check. Full complement of weapons in Spatial Storage, check. I push through the front door and walk over to the bar. Cassie is there pulling a beer. "You made it with 2 minutes to spare. I was starting to wonder." She nods to the stage. There is a single mic with a stool behind it. "Sound check is done. Get to it Spookypants."
I'm trying hard not to look around the room, but there are quite a few people here. Some are eating, but most are drinking and chatting. Jukebox is playing in the corner. The food and kitchen smells clean. The patrons less so. There's a miasma of spilled beer and liquor. I crank down Hyper-Perception to about a 4. "Listen, let me get those two drinks first. Both whisky and both in the same glass. Please?"
She gives me a long look. It's not unkind. She can clearly see I'm nervous. She puts a rocks glass on the bar and pours a hefty portion of bottom shelf whisky in it. I grab it up and shoot the whole glass. God, it burns so good. "Fucking lovely!"
I walk through the crowd and hop up on stage. I'm moving the stool around when the jukebox cuts off. I bring my guitar around and hit the microphone. The feedback noise gets everyone's attention. Great. I lean in towards the mic and say in a too loud voice, "My name is Sam Deadman the Rock-n-Roll Ghoul, and I'm here to...fuck it." I find the right volume. "Here's some music."
I start them off with Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Simple Man". Some people are nodding along, and some are still laughing at my makeup. I pepper in some radio music and hit them with a cover of The Rolling Stones "Angie". Cassie is watching from the corner of her eye and nodding along as I play. It's all flowing pretty smooth. The biggest problem is my voice wanting to imitate the original singers exact voice and accent. I keep it my own, and I feel like the whisky is helping me relax as I go.
In addition to everything being an acoustic version, I'm not even keeping the decades close when I play the new stuff. I give them a cover of Jonathan Roy's "Keeping Me Alive". Play some more local stuff and I'm getting dry. I give Cassie the drink motion and raise my eyebrows hopefully. She sends me another whisky and another one later on. She knows what's up. I play a version of Zucchero's cover of "Wicked Game" while I make too much eye contact with her.
More local songs and then I get ready to wrap it up with a cover of Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah". I put some spin on this one. Slow it down and drop the vocal range deeper. I've been getting some applause after the songs, but when I wrap this one up the crowd is pin drop quiet. Exp has been rolling in during the hour, and I can feel I'm close to leveling. I'm pretty drunk, but I notice some equipment behind a curtain at the back of the stage. I spot a Spanish style guitar on a stand.
I sling my guitar back and stand up with a little stumble. "We can't end it on such a somber note." I grab the new guitar and tune it up fast. "Here is a little song with no sad lyrics for you boys and girls." I give them Lucas Imbiriba's style of Malaguena. The whisky's got me loose and I shred the absolute hell out of someone else's guitar. This time I get applause at the end. Sounds good. I get some slaps on the back as I hop down and head to the bar. Cassie has another drink waiting for me. I shoot it and I'm feeling like a million bucks.
*Ding*
That's the last thing I clearly remember till morning.