The bus was entirely too large for downtown Edmond.

Diesel knew it. Thane knew it. The poor SUV that had to reverse down a one-way street to make room definitely knew it. But there it was — thirty thousand pounds of steel, speakers, and rock star energy crawling down Main Street like it belonged there.

On the side, someone (read: Gabriel) had taped a giant poster that said WE HEARD THERE WOULD BE CUPCAKES.

They parked in the mayor’s reserved spot.

Thane looked out the tinted windows at the brick façade of Edmond City Hall and groaned. “We should not be doing this.”

“We were invited,” Gabriel said, buttoning up a fresh black Feral Eclipse hoodie over his usual chaos. “This is a civic duty.”

“I’m wearing jeans that smell like smoke,” Maya said, stretching in the aisle.

Cassie, scrolling her phone, added, “You were literally in a fire pit jam circle last night. It’s earned.”

Rico flipped down his sunglasses and strummed the opening chords of Welcome to the Jungle as the doors opened.

The moment the crew stepped out, all hell broke loose.

Because apparently, someone had tipped off social media. A whole swarm of fans was already there — clustered across the courthouse lawn, perched on benches, waving signs that said things like “Make Rock Feral Again” and “Let the Wolves In!”

A police officer stationed at the door — one who had absolutely been at the cookout last night — grinned and waved them in.

“Upstairs,” he said. “Room 204. Cupcakes and the proclamation.”

Jonah turned to Gabriel. “Do you think they’ll let us hang the proclamation in the garage?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Only if it glows in the dark.”

Inside, City Hall was a blur of excited staff, baffled taxpayers, and a deeply unprepared intern trying to manage the front desk while taking selfies with Cassie and Maya.

Thane led the group down the hall with his usual air of “I regret everything about this decision,” followed closely by Mark, who carried a small black flight case that totally didn’t contain a fog machine — definitely not.

They arrived at Room 204 to find:

  • A tray of cupcakes with edible Feral Eclipse logos printed on the frosting
  • A paper banner that said “Thank You For Bringing Joy (and Chaos) To Our City!” in Comic Sans
  • The mayor, two city council members, and someone from Parks and Recreation who looked like they’d just walked into the wrong universe

“Welcome!” the mayor said, shaking Thane’s hand with both of his. “It’s not every day we give a proclamation to werewolves!”

“Right,” Thane said, nodding. “New for us, too.”

Gabriel immediately bit into a cupcake like it had insulted his ancestors. “Holy hell. These slap.”

The mayor beamed. “They’re red velvet. From Crumbs & Frosting on 2nd Street.”

“I’m gonna marry this bakery,” Jonah muttered through a mouthful of frosting.

As the mayor read aloud the official proclamation — complete with “Whereas: The band Feral Eclipse has brought the community together in the spirit of music and mild anarchy…” — the band posed for photos, signed a few commemorative posters, and yes, took home a box of cupcakes signed by the mayor.

Outside, the fan crowd had only grown.

Someone was selling knockoff band buttons on the lawn. Two girls in homemade werewolf ears were doing TikTok dances. A guy with a Bluetooth speaker was blasting Run Wild from his backpack. The police tried to form a line, but then one officer got distracted getting a selfie with Rico.

Thane stood on the bus steps, surveying the madness with the weariness of a sound engineer who knew he was about to be the one cleaning up everyone’s frosting wrappers later.

Gabriel nudged him, cupcake in hand. “Worth it?”

Thane took a bite. Frosting. Red velvet. Civic glory.

He nodded. “Yeah. It was.”

Behind them, Mark emerged with the proclamation scroll… and a folded paper from the Parks & Rec guy.

Gabriel squinted. “What’s that?”

Mark smirked. “Permit for a ‘low-impact public performance’ at the city amphitheater.”

Thane groaned. “Oh no.”

Cassie clapped. “Oh yes.”