[ WP ] After finishing a set at an old bar , a washed up musical legend is approached by someone who just wants to jam with him ... that someone is Satan

The Man finished up his song, sat silently at the piano for a few seconds, then reached into his jacket for his flask. He brought it to his lips, attempted to take a swig, then upended it to watch the last few drops fall to the floor. 
 
 `` Looks like you're all out, old friend.'' 
 
 The Man turned to look at a man dressed in a slightly disheveled white suit. His lips cracked into a slight grin. `` Hello, Stan. It's been a long time.'' 
 
 Stan sat on the bench next to the Man, motioning the barkeep to bring a few drinks over as he did so. `` Come now, you know my real name. Why insist on calling me Stan?'' 
 
 `` I like Stan better than Satan. It's close enough, and causes less of a terrified reaction if someone overhears me.'' The man was silent as the barkeep placed two glasses of ice on the piano, and watched as he poured some scotch into both. Stan followed the barkeep's retreating form as the Man reached for his drink. 
 
 `` Poor sap, he prays every day for something or someone to take him away from here.'' 
 
 The Man swirled his drink for a moment before replying `` He should know that God is n't listening. That's why I turned to you.'' He sipped his drink. 
 
 `` I think the man upstairs is listening, he just does n't interfere. I, on the other hand, love seeing what you people can do if I give you the chance. You, for instance. I gave you the ability to make music worthy of the gods, and so you did.'' 
 
 The Man stared into his drink, as though it held some deep secret he longed to understand. `` So I did.'' 
 
 Stan sighed and reached for his drink. `` It's a shame, really, what happened to your family. I swear to you, I had nothing to do with it.'' 
 
 `` I know you did n't. It's not your style.'' The Man said, still staring into his glass. 
 
 `` No, it is n't. Dying due to a drunk who decided to get behind the wheel... There's nothing elegant about that, nothing honorable, nothing poetic. I am truly sorry that it had to happen to you.'' 
 
 `` Could you have saved them?'' 
 
 Stan sipped his drink before answering. `` Could I have saved them? No. No, my abilities are n't quite as all-encompassing as that, unfortunately.'' He sipped his drink again. `` Just like I ca n't save you.'' 
 
 The Man turned to face Stan, comprehension dawning on his face. `` That's why you're here?'' 
 
 `` Yes, but not in the way you're thinking. I'm not going to collect your soul, that was n't part of our deal. You see, you're going to die tonight. Aneurysm. You'll die in your sleep, painlessly. If you went to the hospital right now, they might be able to save you. But you wo n't.'' 
 
 The Man turned back to his drink. `` You're right, I wo n't.'' 
 
 `` A shame. You could have been so much more if things had been different.'' Stan turned to the piano, stretching his hands. `` I came here to play with you one last time. To show these people what could have been. If we're lucky, maybe our music will inspire them to great heights. I know for damned sure that they'll never forget it.'' 
 
 The Man grinned, raising his glass to Stan, who did the same. `` To old friends.'' 
 
 `` To damned good music.'' 
 
 With that, they drained their drinks and started to play. The devil played slowly, giving the Man a smooth bass line to play to. The Man listened for a moment, then began to play a somber piece that meshed perfectly with the devil's music. Together they played for a few minutes, filling the bar with their music. Then, together, they began to sing, playing the whole time. They sang a song of loss, of sadness, of despair. However, as they played, their music slowly became harsher, and they sang as though resentful of their loss. Their song became one of anger, of betrayal, of refusing to accept what life had dealt. The music was hard, driving, as though it were a beast gnashing it's teeth in frustration, attempting to break loose of its chains. 
 
 Then the music began to change again. Slowly, their voices changed to a song of acceptance, of acknowledging what had happened and moving beyond it. Until finally, after a total of an hour and a half of constant music, they stopped. 
 
 The bar was silent as everyone attempted to take in what they had heard. Finally, Stan stood up, nodded to the Man, and walked out the door. 
 
 The Man was quiet for a few minutes, then stood up, walked to the bar, had a final drink, and left.
