watched her and as the crowd turned, their eyes met and she mouthed three words that he understood perfectly, “Give ‘em hell.”
Lee had seen it too and as they both smiled faintly, the emcee butted in again “The fight’s come down to two bands. Each gets a single song of their choice and whoever wins the approval of the judges will be dubbed the Kings of the Pacific. We’ve decided that since Bloody Demon has been crowned Kings of the Pacific for the past four years, NoCal will go first this time.”
Mo’s face fell into a frustrated glare as he took in what the announcer was saying. He walked back to where Lee sat, scowling, and whispered, “Past four years?! Are they frickin’ kidding right now? Of course they’re gonna win, the judges have already decided I bet!”
Lee smiled calmly and said, “Yeah but this is what we do best. We’re probably not gonna win this one, but we can sure as hell give ‘em a fight.”
Mo returned the smile and said, “’Eye For An Eye’. This isn’t over tonight, we’re gonna overthrow these guys…”
As he turned to face the now expectant crowd, he started in on a long, painful sounding power slide, slipping his fingers gradually down the neck of his guitar, disturbing the strings. He walked slowly and ran his fingers back up the neck of the guitar until Lee broke in with four consecutive cymbal crashes and dove straight into a rapid beat, adding bursts of double bass here and there to add his signature beef. Mo played along and after about fifteen seconds, both of the boys yelled loudly into their respective microphones.
• • •
“There’s really not much structure to this song, is there?” mused a girl as she and her friend found an open pocket in the crowd just feet from NoCal’s stage.
“Yeah but listen to the lyrics, they’re making a statement…” her friend replied, impressed.
As the song rounded into the chorus, Lee took over singing and Mo exploded onto the stage, rocking out as though his life depended on it. His hair flinging around as he jumped and rocked, it was obvious that they were going out with a bang.
“Lee’s not just singing… he’s warning…”
• • •
Lee once again led straight into the second verse, much the same as the first. When they came to the chorus, they broke it down with Lee singing a throaty hybrid between a sing and a scream, Mo leading the crowd in jumping. This time, as Lee vocalized he locked eyes with one of the judges and his tone turned sharp and dangerous. As Mo jumped he could tell who Lee had picked to stare down because the middle judge seemed a bit uncomfortable and shifted in his seat.
The song wasn’t much over two minutes long and it stopped as abruptly as it had started. The crowd once again cheered a deafening cheer, hooting and hollering before turning to face Bloody Demon for their closing song. The eyes of everybody in the venue were on the stage.
The crowd was once again silenced by Anne’s slender wrist being held out over the crowd. She then climbed the skull pile gingerly. When she reached the top she grabbed the microphone with both hands and began to whisper quietly into the mic, “Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the floor. Let the bodies hit the…”
The crowd immediately began screaming and cheering the second they recognized the words and by the time they had started it off with two cymbal crashes her voice was barely able to be heard. Much like the last two songs, Bloody Demon played ferociously through “Bodies”. They used their assets well and seemed to attack from every side with every weapon in their arsenal.
Their song ended to deafening applause from the crowd and, to nobody’s surprise, the emcee walked onto the stage and shook the hand of the lead vocalist. “Bloody Demon, everybody!” he said in his signature voice. “It’s by split decision, for the first time ever, that we crown Bloody Demon the Kings of the Pacific. NoCal fought valiantly, but congratulations once again to Bloody Demon!”
• • •
The stars were out as the boys waited in the back alleyway. Lee’s attention was skyward and Mo’s was focused on the dingy door. They sat waiting patiently and quietly.
Presently they heard noise coming from inside and finally the door swung open as seven people stepped out into the moonlight. Immediately Moses and Lee got to their feet and stood, waiting for Bloody Demon to approach them. As they got closer, the masked guitarist, still masked and walking in front said in his calm, cool voice, “Well well well, we thought you boys had gone crying home to your mother.”
Mo’s eyes flashed dangerously in the light of the street lamp and it was clear that he had struck a nerve. Lee placed his hand on Mo’s shoulder warningly and spoke up “Yeah, congratulations on beating out a shitty hipster band, a poser girl band, and two guys who had like three days to get ready for a rigged battle of the bands.”
“What, came to throw cheap shots after we beat you in a regulated competition?” the guitarist shot back from behind his mask.
Suddenly Lee was face to face with the mask, breathing heavily on it and causing it’s wearer to shrink back ever so slightly. “Let’s talk about fear, mask,” he said darkly, “the seven of you gang banged the two of us. You outnumbered us, you caught us off guard, and you’re still hiding behind your mask.”
“So what? We both entered a battle of the bands and we beat you fair and square.” It was Anne who spoke now, her voice relaxed and small. Had the boys not just witnessed the beast within they would hardly have believed it.
Moses started in. “We’re challenging you for your crown. This time we have a fair fight; no biased judges, no fancy stages, no special effects, just the seven of you versus the two of us. Unless that doesn’t sound easy enough for you…”
“Go on,” Anne replied tentatively.
“We set up two identical stages on the Pier, side by side. We get three songs each, flipping a coin to see who plays first each round. The crowd will be the judges. We can rent identical sound systems from The Pub.”
“Just name your day,” the masked guitarist now spoke again.
“Friday,” Moses was ready; he had been hoping that they would ask.
“Fine,” breathed the masked guitarist as he turned heel and walked away, followed by the rest of the band. As Anne turned to follow suit, she shot Lee a look that he couldn’t quite place. It was somewhere between a look of impression and what could almost have been mistaken for a subtle cry for help.
“Be there at eight o’clock sharp…” Mo called after them into the darkness. He was answered by a middle finger slung straight up in the air by whoever was bringing up the rear.
As Bloody Demon disappeared down the alley, EmJay emerged from the shadows holding a digital camera. “I got everything,” she beamed as she handed the camera to Mo.
“I guarantee a mob will show up to see this!” Mo smiled as they played the video over. “We’d better get ready…”
- Regime Change -
“Okay so that should be everything right?” Lee said as he gazed at the two identical stages.
“Yep, it’s ready to go,” Moses replied, staring distantly ahead.
“So how are we gonna do this? Lee thought aloud.
“Well first we’re gonna give them a taste of their own brand of medicine. Then we try to throw them off and make them change their plans. Then we go in for the kill,” smiled Mo. “If everything goes according to plan, we’re gonna play ‘Sidewinder’ third… All of it.”
Lee beamed, “Sick.”
The stages were set up facing the west, rather than the east. This was done in part so that the sun wouldn’t be in the eyes of the audience as it sank and in part to ensure that the crowd (who would act as the judges) remained for the entirety of the battle and weren’t as free to come and go as they pleased.
• • •
The sun was getting low and was casting an orange glow on the west facing stages. As the clock drew nearer to eight the Pier was filled to capacity with expectant concertgoers. The square created between the stages and the three
sides of the pier were packed with excitedly chattering onlookers. Even the fifteen-foot gap between the stages was full of excitedly chattering music fans. The energy in the air was almost palpable as both NoCal and Bloody Demon prepared for their musical dual.
The crowd was silenced suddenly as Mo strummed a broad E chord from the stage on the right. From behind the microphone stand he greeted the crowd.
“Hey guys, welcome to the Dethroning of the Kings of the Pacific!” he said as he removed the microphone from it’s stand and walked across the stage toward where an odd looking structure functioning as a bridge stood spanning the gap between the stages. His guitar bounced harmlessly on his back as he climbed the structure to stand atop it, where he was met by the masked guitarist of Bloody Demon.
“The rules are as follows,” began Mo, “Each band will be allowed three songs, with a fourth awarded to the winner as an encore. The order in which the two bands will perform will be determined by a coin flip, with the winner choosing to open or close the round. The winner of the contest will be decided by the audience after each band has played three songs apiece. The winner will receive the crown and be dubbed Kings of the Pacific. Does that sound fair to you?” he asked looking over challengingly at the masked guitarist.
The guitarist seized the microphone from Mo and said roughly “So be it…” He then produced a quarter and held it up for the crowd to see before
This Is Who We Are Page 13
