Post-show, same venue, very late

The set was a hit. The crowd had gone feral. Gabriel had absolutely shredded under a literal spotlight of sparkling fog, and Feral Eclipse walked offstage to a sea of flashing lights, howling fans, and an entire front row covered in gator-shaped glitter flakes.

But now?

Now came the reckoning.

Thane stood at the back of the venue, arms crossed, staring down at one of the subwoofers—completely caked in glitter. Like someone had rolled it in glue and dragged it through a Hobby Lobby.

Nearby, two venue staff stood frozen, holding a shop vac like it was a crucifix warding off a demon.

Mark joined him, sipping his third soda of the night, eyes tired and haunted. His voice came out flat as drywall.

“There’s glitter inside the dimmers.”

Thane winced. “How deep?”

“I sneezed glitter.”

“Oh.”

Mark pointed toward the back riser. “Also, a stray confetti charge got sucked into the intake fan on the hazer. It now produces a fine mist of regret and sparkles.”

Down on stage, a crew member kicked something with a clink. It was a Rocket Gator sticker. Still attached to the inside of a cymbal.

The house lighting op—some poor overworked twenty-something with a nose ring and trauma in her eyes—approached Thane like he owed her money.

“There’s glitter in the motorized yoke.”

Thane blinked. “Like… inside the housing?”

She nodded, defeated. “In the housing. It spins. It… throws glitter now.”

Gabriel appeared from stage left, shirt half untucked, hair floofed from sweat and fog. “Okay, that sounds awesome, not gonna lie.”

Mark didn’t even look at him. “You owe this venue a fruit basket. And maybe a therapy session.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I could sign some posters?”

“You’re gonna be signing warranty forms,” Thane muttered, hands on his hips.

Just then, the front of house assistant wheeled up a bin full of recovered debris—mostly confetti, some gator charms, and at least two small children’s shoes. No explanation.

“Don’t ask,” she said. “Just… don’t.”

Mark sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is why I don’t do joy.”

Gabriel walked up behind him and gently patted his shoulder. “But don’t you feel a little more fabulous now?”

Mark turned slowly. “I have glitter in places I don’t talk about in public.”

Thane started laughing so hard he had to lean against a bass amp.

“Okay,” he gasped, “next time, we clear any glitter-related ideas through the rigging team. And by that, I mean me.”

“Noted,” Gabriel said, absolutely not noting anything.

Behind them, someone turned on a fan.

A glitter cloud rose like a cursed phoenix.

Mark sighed again, deeply.

“This venue is going to blacklist us.”

Gabriel grinned. “But we’ll be remembered.”