Deviant: No Longer Human

"Bravo! What a song!" shouted the old man with white hair from his corner, his voice booming above the rest.

His laughter rang out, rich and infectious, as he raised his overflowing jug of beer high into the air, the frothy liquid sloshing over the rim in his enthusiasm.

The three women around him joined in, their own applause enthusiastic as they leaned closer, their faces alight with amusement and delight.

"That\'s the spirit of a new age indeed!" he proclaimed loudly, the jovial tone in his voice drawing smiles from those nearby. His companions giggled, toasting to his words, their glasses meeting with a celebratory ting.

"More! Give us another one!" another voice called out from the back of the bar, where a younger crowd gathered, their faces eager and animated by the performance.

The lyre player, Alex, nodded appreciatively, his smile wide as he absorbed the energy of the room.

He adjusted the strings of his lyre, preparing for another piece, encouraged by the warm reception.

His eyes twinkled with a hint of the divine as he surveyed the room, ready to weave another tale with his music that would keep the spirits high and the worries of the outside world at bay for a while longer.

Amidst this euphoric atmosphere, the corner occupied by the old man with white hair became a focal point of playful intrigue and laughter.

He was the same guy who had exclaimed the loudest earlier, renowned as Zach King in the bar for his jaw-dropping drinking abilities.

Dressed in a tastefully casual designer blazer and an open-collared crisp shirt, Zach exuded a relaxed yet authoritative charm.

Around him, the three women in flowing dresses fluttered with a mix of flirtation and mirth, each vying for his attention in their own enchanting way.

"Zach, darling, you must tell us your secret for staying so timeless," cooed the brunette to his left, her voice a silken tease as she leaned closer, her hand lightly brushing against his arm.

Rustle...

The blonde across from him, with a mischievous glint in her eye, chimed in playfully, "Yes, do share! Or is it just the company of beautiful women that keeps you so youthful?" Her laughter, light and inviting, drew a chuckling response from him.

The redhead to his right, not to be outdone, draped her arm around his shoulders and whispered audibly, "Or perhaps it\'s something more magical? You must possess a potion of youth, hidden away from the prying eyes of mere mortals." Her fingers toyed with the edge of his blazer, pulling him teasingly closer.

Zeus responded with a hearty laugh, his voice resonant and full of life, echoing around the bar. "Ah, my dear ladies, if only it were something as simple as a potion. But I assure you, it\'s all in the art of living well and enjoying the finest pleasures life has to offer—such as this delightful company."

As they laughed and sipped their drinks, the backdrop of the lyre\'s melancholic strings added a layer of depth to their interaction, weaving a magical sound that complemented the dance of flirtation and fondness playing out in the corner.

Meanwhile, the television continued to drone on, the contrast between the broadcasted global crises and the local warmth of the bar highlighting the surreal divide between the world inside and outside Neptune\'s Dive.

The news anchor\'s voice momentarily broke through the music and laughter, bringing a fleeting reminder of the uncertainties lying beyond the bar\'s smoky confines.

"Reports continue to come in about the situation in Frostholm, with international leaders calling for calm amid the unfolding nuclear crisis," the anchor reported, his tone stark against the sounds of mirth and music in the bar.

"...Latest updates on the Frostholm crisis show governments worldwide fighting with the aftermath," the broadcaster\'s voice struggled to compete with the background noise of the bar. "Leaders urge calm as the implications of the nuclear fallout continue to show."

A woman at the bar, her eyes reflecting the flickering neon, turned to her companion, her voice a mix of fear and curiosity. "Do you think it\'s really as bad as they say? Could it affect us here?"

Her companion, a grizzled man with tattoos winding down his arms, took a slow sip of his drink before answering. "Honey, when the world goes to hell, we\'ll still have places like this. Neptune\'s Dive isn\'t going anywhere."

"Indeed, young man! Hahaha!" Zach, enjoying in the atmosphere, his arms around his women, roared over the noise, "Let the night carry on! Music, beer, and women—what else does a man need?"

Within the bubble of light and shadow, Zeus and his companions seemed momentarily insulated from the world\'s chaos, their evening an ode to the timeless pursuit of joy.

______

Meanwhile in Italy!

Under the shroud of the Italian night, the oppressive darkness was whispered by the howling winds and the crunching of waves against the hull.

The harbour was a chaotic symphony of nature\'s fury, with gusts that seemed determined to rip the world apart.

Yet, in the middle of this cacophony, Penny stood resolute, her phone\'s meager flashlight casting an eerie glow over the scene, battling the power outage in the city.

Eyes alight with urgency, she issued orders to her crew as they struggled against the elements.

"C\'mon, C\'mon! We would receive a big order this time!"

Her words held the undeniable weight of desperation wrapped in a veneer of opportunity.

The crew moved like shadows, bending against the wind, pushing crates and fastening ropes with frozen fingers.

The high-end funeral home she ran had faced a downturn, and this mission was her lifeline.

Frostholm—after the chilling reports of a nuclear fallout—had turned into their El Dorado.

The sheer scale of the disaster promised a morbidly lucrative opportunity; entire families would pay millions for the recovery of their loved ones\' remains.

A flash of lightning illuminated the harbour for the briefest moment, revealing Penny\'s taut features and the wearied but determined faces of her crew.

She held her phone higher, its trembling beam illuminating the gangplank where Mark, her second-in-command, was overseeing the loading of specialized recovery equipment.

"Mark!" she called, her voice slicing through another gale. "We need those containment units secured! If anything shifts during transit, it\'ll be our heads."

"Soon ready, boss!" Mark shouted back, his voice almost swallowed by the wind.

He gestured towards a stack of heavy-duty coffers they would need for the expedition—each one a small fortune in its own right.

The sea churned with rage, splashing cold saltwater over the dock and drenching the crew.

Yet no one faltered.

They had all felt the tightening grip of financial strife over the past months, and hope—however grim—fueled their labor.

As Penny moved from crew member to crew member, offering quick words of encouragement and making adjustments where necessary, she couldn\'t shake the thoughts racing through her mind.

Her business was on the brink of collapse; her debts had accumulated to a suffocating level.

This night, despite its darkness and desperation, was ironically her light at the end of the tunnel.

Her connection with the dead was unique after all!