**Author's Note:**

The story begins with the game's backing band (who general consensus has christened them Eddie, Scuffy, and Bob), but the guitarists will appear swiftly. A disclaimer: I am not, nor have I ever pretended to be, a gamer of any sort. I am, however, a guitarist. This makes me doubly unable to play Guitar Hero. The characters, however, are rife for interpretation and just having fun. This is what I intend to do.

So, nee-ner, nee-ner, nee-ner.

Some are born into greatness. Some have greatness thrust upon them. Some hear greatness whisper in their ear, telling them what awaits them should they work hard and hone their skills.

"Hu-won, hu-too, hu-won, two, three, four."

This was not greatness. This wasn't even half-badness. This may have been goodness, as in, "Goodness, gracious, get them off the stage!"

Barely into the first song in their set, Skynyrd's "Gimme Three Steps," and the Fire and the Graves were having problems. One problem, mainly: their guitarist, Manny...Manly..something or another, promised he could have the song down pat by gigtime. Not only had he lied, he was bad, and he was drunk. A bad drunk liar. Drad lunk drier. Brad bunk... Gimme three sleps!

Eddie Cash, singer, gave bassist "Scruffy" Pellegro a look that conveyed how deeply annoyed he was. Scruffy responded with a look of his own that conveyed how deeply he would plant boot to ass if Eddie stopped singing now. Which was impressive, considering you couldn't see his eyes. Manny would get booted anyway, so finish as much of the set as we can.

Manny's solo came. He blew it from the first note. Some well-meaning patrons of the bar began to throw empty beer cans, having discovered that no amount of inebriation would make this racket enjoyable. One was sober enough to still have good aim, hit Manly Manny right in the forehead, and the guitarist fell back like a wood plank, like a carny promises you those wood ducks will if you hit it juuuust right, no really, have another go.

Eddie sighed, dodged a ballistic Budweiser, and waved his hands vaguely at Scruffy and Bob the drummer to drag Manny backstage while bar-goers continued to throw cans and jeers.

"What, leaving so soon? We just got the bottles in!"

"There's a darts tournament tomorrow; I need to practice my aim!"

Eddie bit his tongue, and merely said "We apologize for this evening. Thank you for putting up with us." Then he bolted backstage before they broke out the Coronas, and who should be waiting there but Xavier flippin' Stone.

Xavier Stone was a phenomenal guitarist. He looked like Jimi Hendrix. He wanted to be Jimi Hendrix, sans the untimely death. Once he grabbed ahold of his blonde Telecaster, there wasn't a crowd in town he couldn't get funky. Perhaps most importantly, he actually liked the Fire and the Graves. The rhythm section, at least. Xavier eyed the unconscious guitarist, who had been left lying on the floor.

"You guys really couldn't do any better?"

"It was a last minute thing, since you backed out," Eddie countered.

"I said I'd help you rehearse, not that I'd be your lead. I don't do that whole 'rathle-frathle-rumble-death' thing. And I have a gig."

"Literally nobody actually says 'rathle-frathle-rumble.' 'Death,' yeah. But we softened up for you. Or did you think we did Skynyrd for kicks?"

"Still have a gig. A band I know." He sighed. "You guys are solid. Just not my style."

"What, like, 'good rhythm and you can dance to it'?" Scruffy huffed a laugh. The joke went over Bob's head, but he was the drummer and didn't notice, otherwise he would have reached up and tried to catch it. "We're not a bad joke, X. We're gonna make it, and we're gonna make it big."

"I don't doubt that brother, but you ain't getting nothin' if you keep that guy. We need to get you a guitarist so you guys can actually play a whole song or two." He winked, to make sure everyone knew he was joking.

Bob piped up. "Moose Lounge is having an open mic thing tonight."

"How do you know that?" Eddie asked. Bob should have been blacklisted from that club, at least seven times, by Mitch, the owner.

"Bartender there gives me free drinks when I say please."

Xavier shook his head, chuckling slightly. "Okay then. Throw that guy in a closet somewhere, and I'll meet you at Mitch's Moose Lounge in two hours."