The band had barely gotten through their post-show coma nap when they were whisked across town to a “surprise” fan-organized event—set up by the local promo team as a thank-you for playing in what Thane kept referring to as “the bovine apocalypse barn.”

The venue?

A themed restaurant called “Wolf Howlz BBQ & Arcade.”

Yes. Really. The sign out front was a neon werewolf holding a rib like a guitar. Its animatronic arm moved. Barely. It looked like it was dying of rabies.

Gabriel lit up like Christmas. “I love this place already.”

Cassie stared. “It has a moon bounce.”

Mark squinted at the sign. “It also has animatronics with mange.”

Thane muttered, “I’m going to start drinking again.”

Inside, it was even weirder.

The place was decked out in faux wood paneling, wolf-themed murals (bad ones), and weirdly sensual velvet paintings of howling beasts. Every table had pawprint napkin holders. The air smelled like brisket and existential crisis.

At the back of the dining room, under a blinking sign that said “FANGS & FRIENDS FAN FEST”, sat nearly forty people in custom-made Feral Eclipse shirts. Most looked fairly normal. Some looked… committed.

One guy wore fake fur ears and had painted claws. A woman in the front row was clutching a plushie of Gabriel.

Rico muttered, “It’s finally happened. We’re a cult.”

Gabriel leaned over to Thane. “If someone proposes marriage, I accept.”

The meet-and-greet kicked off with a mic that cut out every third word.

Fan 1: “Thane, what’s your inspiration when you’re—”
crackle-pop-zzt
Fan 2: “Gabriel, is it true you sleep upside down in a guitar case?”
Fan 3: “Maya, can I duel you for dominance?”
Maya: “Try it and I’ll beat you with a cheese grater.”

Jonah took a photo with a teenage fan who asked him to sign her prosthetic leg—he did it without missing a beat, adding “Drum on!” above his name.

Mark was asked if his fur was real.

He just deadpanned, “No. I buy it from Etsy.”

Thane was offered a ziplock bag full of “authentic werewolf hair.”

He blinked. “…This is dog hair.”

The fan nodded proudly. “But it’s husky, so it’s close.”

Gabriel was in his element — posing, hugging, signing whatever was put in front of him. He arm-wrestled a guy in a wolf kigurumi and lost—on purpose, of course. Probably.

Then came the fan art.
So. Much. Fan art.

Some of it was stunning.
Some of it was… anatomically confusing.

Cassie politely clapped.
Rico bit his tongue.
Maya visibly gagged at one.
Mark stared for a solid five seconds, then said, “Well. That’s a perspective.”

Eventually, food was served — BBQ nachos, fried pickles, and sliders the size of hockey pucks. A karaoke machine wheezed into life, and suddenly a girl in a hoodie was belting a surprisingly accurate cover of “Lunar Burn.”

Gabriel gasped. “She nailed my scream!”

Thane raised a brow. “Recruit her. Fire Cassie.”

Cassie: “I will set you on fire with a microphone stand.”

By the time the night ended, the band was half-asleep, full of grease, and emotionally overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their fanbase.

As they stumbled back toward the van, someone tapped Thane’s shoulder.

He turned to see a small, quiet-looking kid with a sketchbook.

“Um… hi. I just wanted to say… your music helps. A lot.”

Thane’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

The kid handed him the sketchbook. “I drew your whole band. I made sure you all had claws and fangs… but you’re smiling. You don’t smile much in photos.”

Thane blinked, flipped through it… and genuinely smiled.

Gabriel leaned close and whispered, “Told you we’re more than a band.”

Thane ruffled the kid’s hair gently with one clawed hand. “You’ve got a hell of an eye.”

They left the restaurant not just with leftovers, but with warmth. Real warmth.