7:12 PM – Backstage, Immediately After Opening Set

The backstage hallway was chaos flavored with sweat, fog juice, and celebratory profanity. Sound crew sprinted past with rolls of gaff tape and half-dead DI boxes. One of the monitor techs looked like he’d been electrocuted by enthusiasm alone.

Thane stood in the corner, one hand braced against the wall, still panting like he’d sprinted a marathon carrying an amp rack. His other hand gripped a half-empty water bottle that may or may not have originally belonged to someone else. Possibly even someone human.

“Okay,” he wheezed, “who the hell decided to trigger both foggers at once?”

From down the hall, Mark strode in calmly with a clipboard in one hand and a rag over his shoulder like a jaded kitchen manager. “Fog unit two glitched. Reassigned its function to ‘panic sprinkler.’ You’re welcome.”

“You mean you set off a cloud bomb during Gabriel’s solo.”

Mark didn’t blink. “I call it dramatic enhancement.”

Gabriel burst in next, still glowing—literally glowing—under a film of sweat, fog, and sheer ego. His bass was slung lazily over his back, and his mouth curled in a wolfish grin.

“That. Was. AWESOME.” He leaned against a crate of mic stands and dramatically wiped his brow with the edge of his shirt. “Did you see the look on that one dude in the front row when I snarled the chorus? He backed up like I was gonna bite him.”

Thane huffed. “You were gonna bite him.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Yeah, but he didn’t know that.”

Maya came stomping in behind him, a busted string still dangling from her guitar like a war trophy. She threw her jacket on a nearby stool and grabbed a towel off the crate.

“I need duct tape and a new A-string,” she growled. “That was the best solo I’ve ever done while internally screaming.”

Cassie appeared next, sweaty curls plastered to her forehead, still breathing hard like she’d just finished her third workout of the day. “That was incredible,” she beamed, flopping dramatically into a folding chair. “Also, pretty sure I kicked a monitor into a different time zone.”

Mark held up his clipboard. “It’s in Kansas now.”

Cassie gave him a thumbs-up. “Good. They need better monitors anyway.”

For a moment, the group just stood there—some leaning, some sitting, everyone dripping.

No words. Just that shared, electric post-battle silence.

Then Thane chuckled low in his chest. “Okay… that was loud, stupid, half-on-fire, and barely held together.”

Gabriel raised his coffee thermos high. “Just the way we like it.”

Mark raised his clipboard in a deadpan toast. “To chaos.”

Everyone clinked with whatever they had—thermos, water bottle, wrench, drumstick.

The war was only beginning. But the first blow had landed hard—and judging by the audience’s deafening reaction, it hit exactly where it needed to.