[MnG] (future) rivals

Raven couldn’t help but roll his eyes slightly as he made his way to the main office. Another stupid meeting with the executives…wonderful. They never had anything important to say—he could look at his own analytics, he was frequently updated on his schedule and performances. It was always a needless 3 hour lecture where he had to nod and act like he didn’t want to kick them in the shins.

As soon as it stepped in, though, it was surprised at the lack of projector. Or whiteboard, or any visual aid really. And how there was only…one executive, standing at the front. There were usually at least a handfull.

Hanging in the doorway, Raven hesitated. He shoved his hands in his vest pockets and asked, “Why am I here?” The irritation and boredom couldn’t be kept out of his voice.

The executive—Tom something-or-other—his eyes narrowed in distaste. “Raven. Sit.” It was a command, not a request.

All it could do was stride up to the nearest chair and slouch into it.

“Your merchandise sales and strategy regarding distributing crabs has been highly successful,” he started. Raven couldn’t help but grin at that, nasty and sharp-toothed.

“So,” he continued, not letting Raven indulge for long, “we’ve recruited another hyperpop musician to boost sales further.”

…What.

Despite Raven’s harsh expression, Tom or whatever’s face morphed into a restrained smile. “They’re one of the crabs distributed from your sales, as a matter of fact,” he added. As if that would make him feel better.

“You’re making a copy of me?” it immediately hissed. “That’ll just take AWAY from my sales, there aren’t THAT many people who like hyperpop. You didn’t even ASK me!!”

The man’s face dropped into an unimpressed stare. “We didn’t want to ask you,” he explained, “because everyone knew you’d throw a tantrum over it.” Raven opend its mouth to protest, but he kept talking without missing a beat. “Besides, the on-again off-again fake relationship with Ophelia has been extremely beneficial. You’ve been able to produce a lot of fanfare and merch from it, correct?”

“…Right,” the musician grumbled. 

“Introducing a fake-rival would only be cause for more merchandise, more sales, more crab distribution. Especially if we can successfully divide people between the two of you, make them pick a team so to speak.” The way he explained it was so even, so calculated, that Raven resented it. He was silent, still sulking.

The executive let out a sigh. “You might as well meet them now.” 

WHAT?

Before Raven could even orient himself, a mig bounced into the room. Their meat was a sparkling white and blue, with bones and teeth and eyes completely decorating every inch of it. They had wings, big ones that almost mocked the ones dangling from Raven’s hood—along with the light blue, flowy outfit they were wearing. A quick glance around, before their eyes fell onto Raven and their face broke out into an enthusiastic grin.

“Hi!!” they said, holding a hand out. “My name’s Nebula.” 

Raven was frozen, unable to keep the malice out of his expression. This…this replacement, this hare-brained scheme that would only fuck up his plans. It never truly wanted to meet any of the crabs it had released. They were sent out to do whatever they wanted, as long as they didn’t get discovered or do anything stupid. Not to crawl BACK to him.

Finally, he sat up slightly but made no indication to take Nebula’s hand. “Raven. Raven Blackwood.” The idea of giving his musician moniker flitted through his head, but was quickly ignored. 

An awkward pause, before Nebula lowered its hand. “Thank you so much for releasing me!! I love my host,” he said eagerly, giving a spin for good measure. 

“…Is that everything??” he asked, hoping he could just leave as he threw a glare to the exec behind Nebula. 

A pause, where the executive gave a restrained glare back. “Show him the ropes,” was all he said before turning and striding away.

God fucking dammit.

“I’m SO excited to be here!! I haven’t made any music or performed before but I’m sure I’ll be great at it!!!” Nebula’s unrelenting rambles continued as they both left the board room. It grated on Raven’s nerves. 

“How did you get to be so popular??”

That question—caught Raven off guard. Wow, Tom’s bitchass couldn’t even be bothered to give them the basics. 

“Everyone here is a mig,” it explained shortly. “They help with all the management, while I use my talents to make music and perform.” There, that should be good enough. 

“Makes sense! And I’ll get to make my own music too, right?” 

Raven stopped dead in his tracks, making Nebula run into him. He turned to the new mig, expression barely held-back hatred. “Allegedly,” he spat through his teeth.

Nebula didn’t even have the decency to look surprised. “Cool!! I can’t wait!”