"In Vino Veritas" by NobodyAtAll

Warning: spoilers for the Intergalactic Tournament Saga.

A few days after Calvin and Marley participated in the Intergalactic Tournament, some of the ChaotiX gather once again at the Inn Between Worlds, that wonderful place that exists outside space-time as we know it.

From here, you can go anywhere, and sample food and drink from across the multiverse.

Here, you can meet incredible people from realities other than your own. Even people who exist in fictional works in your world.

Of course, Igor, owner and bartender, works very hard to ensure that nobody actually notices that they’re talking to people they know as fictional creations.

It would lead to a very unpleasant realization if people did notice this.

Calvin and Marley sit with their friends, the spiky-haired man in orange pajamas, and the man with slicked-back hair and a red cape.

The three humans, or at least the human and two humanoids are drinking beer. Those two men may look human, but they aren’t.

Marley is lapping up a bowl of apple juice.

Both of those men were killed by CQK-9891 during the psychotic Calvin’s campaign to destroy the multiverse, and neither of them hold it against this Calvin.

Death just doesn’t stick for them. They’ve both racked up plenty of Frequent Die-er miles.

“So yeah, we just took part in one hell of a tournament.”

The spiky-haired man immediately takes interest, and the caped man groans, knowing how his drinking buddy is going to react.

“Really? I’ve been in a few tournaments. I even won one of them!”

“Yus, we wuz fite-in pee-puw fwom ack-woss da yoo-nah-vuws. Dey wuz weawwy stwong!”

Really? Hey, I’ve been in a tournament between universes.”

“Neat. In the finals, I fought this really strong guy who just kept getting stronger. It was intense, we almost trashed the stadium!”


The spiky-haired man starts squealing in glee.


The caped man puts his hands over his ears. He has super-hearing, so the squealing is worse for him.

“You want to go fight that guy, don’t you.”

The spiky-haired man starts nodding eagerly.

But the caped man knows that he has to discourage the spiky-haired man from doing so.

He knows how much his friend likes to fight, and that it’s gotten him in trouble in the past.

“Save him for Cal, friend. Plenty of strong people for you to fight in your world.”

“But Igor let us go pitch in against all those demons!”

“That was different, you heard Igor. The future of the entire multiverse depended on Cal winning that battle. You’ve got half a dozen rivals, isn’t that enough?

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna fight the same guy forever! It gets stale!

“Friend, you wouldn’t believe how many people in my world have been fighting the same villains for years on end. You’ve got to find ways to keep the spark alive, and keep things fresh. A rivalry is a two-way street.”

Calvin smirks.

“This is starting to sound like relationship advice.”

So does Marley.

“Nu hoh-moh. Nu dat dewe am aneefing wong wif dat…”

The caped man chuckles.

“Cal, trust me, this guy needs some of that too. I find it hard to believe that he fathered two children.”

The spiky-haired man tries to object, but realizes that the caped man actually has a point.

“Yeah, I could try harder…”

Meanwhile, Glenn and his girlfriend, Leene Bell, sit with a smiling man in purple. He has pointy ears, and a backpack covered in masks.

Glenn enjoys a mug of ale, while Leene has a 7 and 7. The smiling man is enjoying an alcoholic dairy beverage.

Glenn and Leene recently moved in together, and got a fluffy, Darby. An earthie colt. Earthies are the most common kind.

Darby happens to have the exact same colors as Glenn’s fluffy head, back when he was cursed. He’s lapping up a bowl of apple juice too. A lot of fluffies like apple juice.

Glenn saw the little guy at Flufftopia, and just had to take him home.

“So after I destroyed the phantom Ianos, I finally got my face back. I had to put up with the fluffy head for years.

“I thought the fluffy head was cool. No pun intended.”

If you don’t get the pun: Leene recently developed cryokinesis.

“Hey, I’ve still got that mask, the curse was sealed in it, so I can have the fluffy head when I feel like it.”

“Dawby fink it am kinna weiwd.”

The smiling man looks curious.

“A curse sealed in a mask? I’ve seen that before. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell it to me?”

“Sorry, man. I want to hold on to it, see if we can find a use for it.”

“You’re totally gonna win next year’s Halloween costume contest, babe.”

“Ha! Yeah, probably. But if we get our hands on CQK-9891, you can have his mask, free of charge.”

Glenn describes the psychotic Calvin’s mask, stolen from a world that met a terrible fate.

An iteration of a world the smiling man has visited.

The same world that dairy beverage is from.

He spills his drink out of sheer shock.

Henry and Carmilla sit with a muscular man, with shoulder length blond hair, a circlet, leather armor that exposes his legs, and a chain whip holstered at his side, the handle designed to resemble a cross.

Henry’s drinking Red Dragon, his favourite beverage: NuBlood and tincture of cannabis. Carmilla’s got a bowl of NuBlood, and the muscular man has a tankard of mead.

He gives them a scrutinizing look.

“So, you two are obviously vampires.”

“Yup. But we’re nice vampires.”

“We nu feed awn da wivin aneemowe. Dis nu am weaw bwud, mistah.”

Henry nods.

“Pretty sure real blood is the one drink Igor won’t serve here.”

Henry explains what NuBlood is to the vampire hunter.

He’s impressed.

“Huh. I don’t think my world could develop anything like that any time soon. Where I’m from, it’s still the 17th century. Hey, is Dracula a thing in your world?”

“Yeah, but we’re pretty sure he’s dead, and staying that way.”

“Damn, some worlds have all the luck.”

“How yu fink we feew? Dewe nu am a cyoow fow dis whewe we am fwom.”

“That’s rough. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, pal. Y’know, we ran into another version of Vladdy here a while back.”

“I have a hunch. Red coat, red hat, blonde sidekick with, ahem, back pain issues?”

“Dat am da wun.”

The vampire hunter scowls.

“Can’t stand that guy.”

Victor and Scarface sit with a young blond boy in an orange parka, although his hair color isn’t immediately apparent, due to the fact that the hood is up and covering most of his face, muffling his speech.

Victor’s drinking scotch and smoking an atomica, Scarface, as always, has a bowl of tequila, and the boy, much to his annoyance, is stuck with Dr Pepper.

“So, you can’t die either?”

Mmmph mmmph mmmph.

“Wow. How manee times yu gon foweba sweepies?”


Yikes. And I thought I had it rough. How’d you get stuck with that, kid?”

The boy explains how he became unable to die.

Mmmph mmmph mmmph, mmmph mmmph, mmmph mmmph mmmph, mmmph mmmph, mmmph.

“See, this is why I stay the hell away from cults.”

“Unwess yu am takin dem down, Victow.”

“Yup, I’m happy to be their Kool-Aid.”

The boy sighs a muffled sigh.

Mmmph mmmph mmmph.

“Woah! You got a foul mouth for a kid!”

“Yu gib yu mummah kissies wif dat mouf?”

Another patron enters the Inn.

A bald man with pure white skin, a wistful expression, and a black hoodie and a matching black hat.

He walks up to the bar, ordering a drink.

But he hits a snag when he tries to pay for his drink.

Igor glares at the man, pointing a knobbly finger at the signs.

Underneath the one reminding the patrons of the ban on refilling spells, there’s another sign saying “NO CRYPTOCURRENCIES”.

The white man is confused.

“Wait, but why–”

“Because they ain’t worth shit! Pay in real money or get out!”

“Cryptocurrencies are real money!”

“If two French assholes who really need to give the plastic surgery a break can crash it with a phone call, it ain’t real money. Don’t you have a job back home?”

“I-I work at McDonald’s. But crypto’s my ticket out of the rat race!”

“Suuuure it is. Come back when you’ve got some tangible money, buddy.”

The white man gives up and leaves.

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