The small venue show had been pure fire.
Tight stage, low ceiling, bodies packed shoulder to shoulder. No video walls. No pyro. Just raw, unfiltered energy blasting from the amps like lightning in a bottle. The crowd had screamed every lyric. Gabriel nearly shattered a monitor with a stage dive. Cassie held a high note so long a guy in the front row literally dropped to his knees. Thane’s mix was razor sharp, and Mark’s lights made the entire venue feel like it was twice its size.
They’d wrapped just after midnight, sweaty, aching, grinning like maniacs. Load out was a whirlwind of cables, crates, and half-eaten pizza slices.
The moment the gear was packed, Diesel was in the driver’s seat and already gunning it south.
By morning, the sun rose over Myrtle Beach like a spotlight just for them. Waves curled in the distance. The arena loomed ahead, a steel and concrete monolith ringed by vendor tents and banners that screamed:
FERAL ECLIPSE – HEADLINING TONIGHT
WITH SPECIAL GUESTS: Echo Ritual, Thorn Halo, VANDAL SAINTS
When the bus pulled around to the artist entrance, it was met by staff. Not security. Not volunteers. Staff.
They had printed badges with the band’s names. A welcome packet. Pre-staged dressing rooms stocked to spec — Gabriel’s was already set with four coffee options and an entire Keurig cart. Thane’s tech checklist had already been printed and laminated. Diesel got handed a private parking tag like he was driving the President.
And just inside the loading dock, unpacking their guitars in the back corner, stood the Vandal Saints.
Gabriel stepped off the bus first, eyes scanning the dock with a relaxed grin. “Ahh. Smell that? That’s the scent of validation and fear.”
Mark followed him out, muttering, “Don’t start a fight before breakfast.”
Thane came down next. “No promises.”
That’s when it happened.
From across the venue floor, Bret — lead singer of Vandal Saints, ego the size of a stadium, sunglasses on indoors again — looked up and saw them. Saw the full VIP treatment. The security team smiling. The interns rushing forward with clipboards. The literal rolling espresso machine heading toward Gabriel.
Bret’s mouth opened.
His jaw dropped.
He made a noise halfway between a sneeze and a scream.
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME?!”
He stormed forward, arms flailing like an air traffic controller who’d had a full breakdown.
“You guys — what is this? What is this?! You’ve got… coffee service?! Real security? Custom passes?! We’ve been here all morning and we had to share a green room with Thorn Halo’s drummer and his emotional support ferret!”
Cassie walked by him without stopping. “Maybe your agent should work harder.”
Bret spun like a dramatic villain and pointed at Gabriel. “YOU! This is your fault, isn’t it?!”
Gabriel blinked, sipped his coffee, and smiled wide. “I dunno what you’re talking about, man. I’m just a humble bassist with caffeine needs.”
Bret screamed into the sky.
Meanwhile, off to the side, Lance — Vandal Saints’ bassist — had wandered over to chat with Gabriel.
“Hey man,” he said, calm, a little tired. “I’ve been following your tone stuff online. Your work with the DarkRay is actually amazing.”
Gabriel looked surprised for a second — then lit up.
“Oh dude, thank you! You use active pickups?”
They immediately fell into a full-on gear nerd spiral while Bret continued to explode in the background like a malfunctioning fireworks show.
Thane was unfazed. He handed Emily a pack of stage plots, nodded at the chaos, and said, “Keep eyes on Bret. If he starts frothing, call security.”
Emily blinked. “Like… actual frothing?”
Gabriel laughed from across the floor. “He’s halfway there already!”
Load-in continued. The crew rolled carts past a still-fuming Bret, who at one point actually tried to block the path to the main stage until Maya, without blinking, told him, “Move or I test the structural integrity of your ribcage.”
He moved.
The mood in the arena only got better as more bands arrived, and word spread about how feral the headliner energy was. Staff treated the Eclipse crew like royalty. Fans outside screamed when they saw the bus. The whole day had a buzz to it — a pulse of something massive building.
Tonight was going to be huge.
And Bret?
He was going to have a very bad time.