The bus was parked behind the venue—tonight’s sold-out arena gig was still a few hours away, and most of the crew was inside doing soundchecks, lighting queues, and last-minute rigging.
Inside the bus, however, it was unusually quiet.
Too quiet.
Mark sat alone on the sofa, flipping through a well-worn paperback copy of Dune. He wasn’t one for drama, but his left ear had twitched three times in the last five minutes. Something… wasn’t right.
He looked up, nose twitching subtly.
Nacho cheese.
And not just any nacho cheese—the specific kind found only in crinkly plastic bags from gas stations.
Mark slowly set his book down.
Meanwhile, behind the lower bunks, a young teenage fan named Toby was trying his absolute hardest to keep still. He had somehow—somehow—followed the bus from the hotel to the venue, dashed across the service lot with nothing but a hoodie, a VIP lanyard he definitely did not earn, and a snack-filled backpack… and slipped aboard during a gear load-in.
“I just want to meet them,” he whispered to himself. “One selfie. One autograph. I’ll be quiet, I swear—”
His whispering was interrupted by a soft, echoing voice. Dead calm.
“You’ve got exactly five seconds to come out before I pull you out by the ankles.”
Toby froze.
A shadow moved in the dim hallway.
Mark.
The gray-furred werewolf stood there in jeans and a faded black band t-shirt, looking completely unamused, a brow arched so far it practically touched his ears. He didn’t even look mad. Just… disappointed.
“Three,” Mark added.
Toby scrambled out with hands up, hoodie half-tangled over his head and backpack swinging behind him. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean any harm! I just — I love your band so much and I had to try and I brought snacks and —”
Mark held up a claw. “You brought Doritos onto my bus.”
“…Yes?”
Mark stepped closer, slowly, looming like a parental thundercloud.
“Jonah’s gonna smell those from three blocks away. Gabriel’s probably already tail-twitching in the green room. And Thane will make you clean out the cable bins by hand.”
Toby gulped. “Am I… banned?”
Mark exhaled, rubbed his temples. “No. But you’re about to get the most awkward lecture of your life.”
Twenty minutes later, the entire crew was gathered in the front lounge of the bus as Mark recounted the events with dramatic pauses and slow, judgmental glares.
Thane crossed his arms, barefoot claws tapping the floor. “You snuck onto a werewolf’s tour bus?”
Gabriel, perched beside him with a coffee in hand, was trying really hard not to laugh. “I gotta admit, the guts on this kid. I kinda admire it.”
Cassie squinted. “Wait. Did he really bring a bag of Cool Ranch and try to bribe his way to a selfie?”
“Yes,” Mark said flatly.
Jonah burst in from the stage door with a shout. “SOMEONE SAY DORITOS?”
Rico clapped a hand to his forehead.
Eventually, after a very firm but surprisingly kind conversation, the pack did what they do best—turn chaos into connection. Thane made Toby promise to never pull a stunt like that again and attend a fan safety workshop run by the crew’s tour assistant. Emily took a photo with him. Gabriel signed his backpack. Jonah stole his Doritos.
And before the show, Toby was escorted (legally this time) into the VIP area—where he promptly burst into tears when the whole band gave him a group shout-out during the set.