Fred, now fully outfitted in a custom “Feral Grandpa” tee and a trucker hat that said “HOWL, DAMMIT”, had somehow become the official senior emissary between Feral Eclipse and the retirement home next door.

“Listen,” he said, sitting backstage on an amp case like a mob boss, “Eunice in 2B says she’ll call the cops if your soundcheck rattles her teeth again. But… Doris in 4A wants to know if the tall black-furred one is single.”

Gabriel blinked. “What?”

“She saw you on the venue’s Facebook page. She thinks you’re ‘mysterious.’”

Mark nearly choked on his water bottle.

Meanwhile, the soundcheck was proving… difficult. The moment Jonah tested the kick drum, every loose ceiling tile in the green room trembled. Rico’s quick snare roll caused a piece of decorative molding to fall off the balcony. And Maya’s amp—set to her usual “scorch the demons” level—triggered some sort of city-wide seismograph alert, apparently.

Thane, hunched over the audio rack, groaned. “I can feel this venue judging me.”

Outside, two elderly women were peeking through the venue’s side door, one clutching a purse like it might ward off evil, the other clearly hoping for a glimpse of a shirtless Gabriel.

Fred leaned toward Gabriel again. “Now, about Doris…”

Thane stomped over. “Can we not sell our bassist to the geriatric community?”

Gabriel shrugged. “He’s got charisma. I respect that.”

Back inside, Mark activated a gentle red wash across the stage for a lighting test. Unfortunately, the retirement home mistook it for a fire alarm and evacuated the east wing.

Fred returned from making amends with a tray of cookies. “Diplomacy,” he said, passing out chocolate chip apologies.

Rico grabbed one. “Fred, you’re the best thing that’s happened to this tour.”

Gabriel took two. “You’re gonna come on stage with us, right?”

Fred puffed up. “Damn right. I want in on the howl song.”

That night, just before the encore…

Thane leaned into Gabriel. “You really sure about this?”

“He earned it,” Gabriel said.

And so, on the final chorus of “Lunar Burn,” the lights went wild, fog blasted high, and out onto the stage hobbled Feral Grandpa Fred—raising his cane high to the roar of the crowd.

The audience lost their minds.

Thane stood off-stage, stunned, cable draped over one shoulder.

Mark muttered over comms, “…I think I actually like this guy.”

Gabriel grinned, howled at the ceiling, and pointed at Fred like he was the goddamn finale.