David looked over the other judges, well, those that had arrived seeing one of the local musical instructors. The last judge he was told was famous worldwide - why they got someone famous in, he doesn't know.

------

Santana grunted as she was walked through the corridor. Why did she have to judge a talent show for this city? She wasn't from Central City, so why would it have to involve her?
She rolled her eyes when she saw the other two judges, a Police Captain and a music teacher - was she there to make sure actual talent won?

The stage they were using had large, dripping curtains currently blocking their view of everything. Behind Santana, there were two layers to the audience seating - fancy - but still, nothing compared to where she used to perform.

The (un)comfortable silence was broken as the singing first began. Santana almost abused the table as she tried to block out the screeching.

-----

David felt like screaming by the tenth act; only one of them could vaguely sing. Why didn't they get some red buttons like the shows? That would have been brilliant!
He sighed when the curtain closed; finally, the torture was ending. But, looking down at his sheet, they were only halfway through the listed performances - no way had that many people dropped out.

Around five minutes later, the curtain raised again.

-----

There was a figure crouched with their back facing them, a drum positioned in front of them. Further, towards the back of the stage, there was a row of rock, creating a wall of sorts.

David went to open his mouth to ask what the act was when the person started to beat the drum.
Slowly, the sound grew louder, and more instruments joined in with the sound.

Brothers of the mine rejoice!

The person in the centre started to sing, still drumming.

Swing, swing, swing with me

Dwarfs raised from behind the rocks, holding pickaxes.

Raise your pick and raise your voice!

The central person stopped drumming, standing with their back to the audience as they sang.

Sing, sing, sing with me

Another layer of dwarfs appeared from behind the rocks.

Down and down into the deep
Who knows what we'll find beneath?
Diamonds, rubies, gold and more
Hidden in the mountain store

Within the singing, people raised different objects meant to look like precious metals.

Born underground, suckled from a teat of stone
Raised in the dark, the safety of our mountain home
Skin made of iron, steel in our bones
To dig and dig makes us free
Come on, brothers, sing with me!

They all sang together, the central person still with their back to the audience.

I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, Diggy, Diggy hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, digging a hole

The judges flung around, seeing a layer of singers, all dressed like miners behind them.

The sunlight will not reach this low
Deep, deep in the mine
Never seen the blue moonglow
Dwarves won't fly so high
Fill a glass and down some mead!
Stuff your bellies at the feast!
Stumble home and fall asleep
Dreaming in our mountain keep

The central person turned, a helmet covering their face as they sang, commanding the others.

Born underground, grown inside a rocky womb
The earth is our cradle; the mountain shall become our tomb
Face us on the battlefield; you will meet your doom
We do not fear what lies beneath
We can never dig too deep

The stage singers all began again, animating out what the song sang.

I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, Diggy, Diggy hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, digging a hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, Diggy, Diggy hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, digging a hole

Everyone startled as another layer of singers started from the top layer of the audience, doubling the singers' number.
Within the interlude, the central person removed the helmet but kept their head down.

Born underground, suckled from a teat of stone
Raised in the dark, the safety of our mountain home
Skin made of iron, steel in our bones
To dig and dig makes us free
Come on, brothers, sing with me!

The central singer raised their head, green eyes staring out over everyone as those on stage sang again.
Shocked gasps rang out as everyone realised who the lead singer was.

I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, Diggy, Diggy hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, digging a hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, Diggy, Diggy hole
I am a dwarf, and I'm digging a hole
Diggy, Diggy hole, digging a hole

All the singers sang together, voices booming around the room. It echoed within each person's bones as they struggled to find where to look.

As the song came to a close, it settled within everyone's chest that they'd just heard the winning performance.

"Barry?!"

"Bassy?!"

Both David and Santana were stood up in shock as the whole audience clapped loudly around them.

"Could you introduce yourself and your act?" The music instructor asked, seeing as the other two weren't going to ask.

"My name is Bartholomew Henry Sebastian Smythe Allen," Barry introduced himself, "around you are both the old and new Warblers and New Directions-well, all but one."

"All but one?" The music teacher asked.

"Seems Santana decided being a judge was more her game now," Bassy huffed, "managed to get everyone else but her."

"You used to sing with him?" The music instructor asked, turning to look at Santana.

"I used to sing against the chipmunk," Santana huffed, "New Directions and the Warblers were rival glee groups."

"Wait," David butted in, "Barry was in a glee group?"

"He wasn't just in one; he was the Captain," Santana huffed, "there must be some rule against a multi-national winning auditioner?"

There were a few sounds from the back before the manager's voice came over the speaker, "there isn't. Nor did we expect the need for there to be a rule for that in place."

Santana huffed, dropping back into her chair, "shame."

"I am right here, Satan," Bassy stated, pointing to himself, "I can hear you."

"You're meant to."

Bassy rolled his eyes at the predictable reply.

"We need to continue; we've fallen behind." That was the manager over the speaker again - igniting many-a-laugh from the audience, also boos from those that wanted to hear this continue.

-----

"And the winners are Bassy and the New Warblers!"

Bassy smirked as he stood on the stage, watching as the audience burst into cheers.

-----

Barry bit back his yelp as he felt someone tackle him to the floor. Looking up, he saw Santana staring at him. "Hello there."

"How dare you disappear like that!"

"Nice to see you too, Satan," Bassy smirked.

"You had us all worried!" Santana exclaimed, "a nine-month coma!"

"Yes?"

"We could have lost you and not even known," Santana growled, "none of us would have had the chance to say goodbye!"

"Well, I'm alive now, aren't I?" Bassy stated with a huff.

"Yeah, thanks for telling us," Santana snarked.

"Didn't realise you had feelings, Satan." That statement got the pinned speedster a slap to the face. "Ow," Bassy grunted, narrowing his eyes at Santana.

"This is not the time for your theatrics," Santana practically hissed.

"Why, I thought it was time for games." 'Deserved that,' Barry thought to himself as another palm slapped across the cheeks.

"You are just as insufferable as you were as a teen," Santana snarled, "I thought you'd finally matured and grown-up." With one final glare, she stood and turned to walk away.

Crouching as he stood to get up, Barry called to Santana, "I have split personalise, that is why I haven't 'grown-up', Sebastian just can not, he's stuck like that," Barry explained, "he's a defensive face for Bartholomew who watched his mother be murdered."

Santana stopped mid-step, turning to look over at Sebastian as he stood facing her. "Your mother was murdered in front of you?"

"Age eleven, my mother was killed in front of me, and my father was thrown in prison. I became known as the kid of a wife-killer and bullied to breaking point, multiple times," Barry sighed. "Sebastian was my final attempt at getting my life back on track. A clean slate away from the mess of Central City, but when I realised what happened, I panicked and ran."

"One twisted boy who can't grow up," Santana stated, trying to ease the atmosphere.

"Peter Pan with no home to return to," Bassy sighed, a small chuckle leaving his mouth as he shook his head.

"Well then, Peter Smythe," Santana stated, moving to punch Sebastian in the shoulder (a friendly punch, of course), "where are you keeping them all?"

"The Dungeon, of course!"

Santana laughed.

-----

"You weren't kidding," Santana stated as she stared at the sign.

"The Dungeon was the best bar and function I could rent!" Bassy defended.

"Come on, Peter Smythe."

"-That name is never going to disappear, is it?"

"Never in your life, little boy."

Bassy groaned as he led Santana into The Dungeon.

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