The bus rolled smoothly down the highway, the city of Dallas slowly shrinking in the rearview mirrors.

Up front, Diesel had one hand on the wheel and the other on a thermos of truck stop coffee that could strip paint. His weathered face was calm, but his tone was more stunned than usual.

“I’ve been doin’ this thirty years,” he said, eyes locked on the road. “Never… ever seen a fire marshal turn into a fanboy and give a rock band a police-grade highway send-off.”

Gabriel leaned in from the co-pilot seat, tail thumping lazily behind him. “That’s ‘cause you’ve never driven a werewolf band before.”

Diesel chuckled, slow and gravelly. “You boys are damn lucky I like weird.”

Meanwhile, the real show was happening behind them.

The entire crew—Thane, Gabriel, Mark, Jonah, Maya, Rico and Cassie — were crammed into the front lounge around Emily and her tablet. She sat cross-legged on the couch, her auburn hair in a messy braid, scrolling through the absolute explosion of social media content.

“Okay, this one’s from Lindsay the waitress,” she said, tapping the screen. A grainy vertical video played of the moment Gabriel leapt onto the table at the diner. The caption read:
“I THOUGHT HE WAS GONNA EAT SOMEONE BUT HE GAVE A SPEECH 😭😭😭 #WerewolfWisdom”

Laughter broke out across the bus.

“Okay, but look at this remix,” Emily added, swiping again. Now it was the same footage—but auto-tuned. Gabriel’s line about “we’re not just a band… we’re a pack” had been remixed into a full-on beat drop, synced with flashing diner lights and someone edited in sparkles around Mark’s mop.

“WHAT?!” Jonah screamed, practically falling off the couch. “WE GOT AUTO-TUNED??”

“I like the sparkles,” Mark muttered, deadpan.

Cassie nearly choked on a granola bar. “They added lens flares to your eyes, Mark!”

Emily kept scrolling—clips of the fire truck, fan cars honking in rhythm, people howling at intersections. Hashtags were trending worldwide:

#FeralEscort
#MoppingMark
#WolfBreakfastUprising
#FeralEclipseForever

Thane folded his arms and smiled, quiet but proud. “This one’s gonna stick.”

Gabriel was busy trying to balance another salt shaker on his snout while watching a fan video on the ceiling monitor. “I feel like we just won the internet.”

Meanwhile…

Cut to: A grungy, half-lit green room.

Cracked tile floor. A flickering fluorescent light buzzing overhead like a dying wasp. An old couch that probably had tetanus. In the corner, a microwave with the door duct-taped shut. The Vandal Saints—the self-important, try-hard rock band who used to think they were rising stars—sat hunched in defeat.

Bret, the lead singer, was watching the viral diner video on his phone. Again.

Again.

And again.

Thane’s name trended globally. Gabriel’s face had been animated into three different reaction gifs. Mark was now the subject of an official meme page called “Occupational Werewolves.”

The video ended with Thane’s slow-mo wave out the bus window as the firetruck lights strobed behind him.

Bret’s lip curled. His knuckles went white around his phone.

Then he SCREAMED—raw, incoherent—and hurled his phone at the green room wall.

The impact sent it into oblivion. Bits of plastic and shattered screen rained down like glittering confetti. One of the lights above sparked.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” he bellowed. “THEY GOT A FIRE TRUCK?! A FIRE TRUCK?!“

Back in the corner of the green room, Lance, the Vandal Saints’ bassist, sat slouched on an amp case, phone tilted discreetly in his hand. He wasn’t putting on eyeliner — not this time. He was filming.

Quietly.

Secretly.

As Bret spiraled — pacing, yelling, finally screaming loud enough to rattle the pipes — Lance just kept recording. When the phone hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces, Lance never even flinched.

He uploaded the clip, then added a comment:
“Still team Feral. #BassistsUnite.”

A few minutes later, that clip hit TikTok with the caption:
“When your lead singer’s ego gets torched by a werewolf bassist.”
Posted from a burner account named @basslinesandsilverthings.

In under an hour, it was everywhere.

#GreenRoomRage
#VandalSad
#BetaVibesOnly
#GabrielWouldNever

And somewhere on the highway, curled up on the couch beside Thane, Gabriel blinked as a new notification popped up on Emily’s feed.

“Wait… is that Bret from Vandal Saints?”

Thane leaned over and smirked. “Guess even they know who the real alpha is.”