Same afternoon, merch table near the venue’s main concourse

The venue’s merch coordinator—a teenager named Kyle who looked like he got this gig because he once dated the assistant manager’s niece—stood proudly behind a folding table piled with freshly unpacked boxes. A banner above the booth read: FERAL ECLIPSE—WILD. RAW. HOWLIN’. (Yes, with an apostrophe.)

Gabriel was the first to wander over, lured by the smell of popcorn and curiosity. He stopped cold at the sight of the merch.

“Thane is gonna lose his entire mind,” he whispered, awestruck.

The T-shirts were… something. Bright neon pink and lime green tie-dye with “Stay Feral, Des Moines!” printed in Comic Sans across the chest. The “wolf” silhouette was clearly a clip art German Shepherd with sunglasses. One hoodie had a full moon with sparkles around it and the slogan “BITE ME, I’M LOCAL” in glittery puff paint.

There were also:

  • Foam claws (all five-fingered, because of course),
  • “Feral Eclipse” slap bracelets with paw prints,
  • Stick-on glow-in-the-dark “fangs,”
  • A limited edition tote bag with an anime-style werewolf in a crop top.

Gabriel picked one up and turned to Kyle. “Hey, man… where did you get these?”

Kyle beamed. “I designed them myself. I used AI, like… four whole times.”

“Oh,” Gabriel said, as if Kyle had just admitted to building a spaceship with hot glue and hope. “Oh, buddy.”

Thane arrived seconds later, Mark right behind him.

Thane’s ears immediately flattened. “What. The actual. Hell is this?”

Kyle, still beaming. “Custom merch for tonight! Wanna autograph some for the fans?”

Mark pointed at the foam claws. “These have five digits. We have four.”

Kyle blinked. “I mean, artist interpretation?”

“Is this glitter?” Thane asked, holding up the hoodie with two claws like it was contagious.

Gabriel whispered, “Please wear it. Please.”

“No.”

“Please just once.”

“Gabriel—”

“I’ll buy you coffee.”

“…Fine.”

Gabriel let out an unholy squeal of victory.

Mark wandered over to the tote bag. He held it up with two clawed fingers, deadpan. “I think this is fan art of us, but… anime.”

Jonah and Rico finally walked up, both with tacos. Jonah stopped mid-bite. “Okay. What the hell are we looking at?”

Rico raised a brow. “We get a cut of this?”

Kyle replied, “The venue keeps all merch proceeds.”

Mark: “I knew I hated this place.”

Thane looked ready to rip a foam claw in half, when Maya appeared behind them and loudly announced, “HEY! Who gave our drummer a Hello Kitty shirt with fangs?!”

All heads turned. Jonah froze. He looked down. Sure enough, someone had slipped a “Feral Kawaii” tee over his regular one. It had a chibi werewolf licking a moon like an ice cream cone.

Rico just gave him a thumbs-up. “Honestly, bro? You pull it off.”

Jonah groaned and walked into the nearest wall.

Thane turned back to the table and growled, “This is not us.”

Gabriel grinned and held up one of the pink glittery shirts. “Maybe not… but imagine the tour photo.”

Mark muttered, “I’m starting to think I’m the sane one.”