A/N: Ended up not being able to get the next chapters up yesterday, sorry about that. But as it turns out, I have to completely rewrite them, not simply edit them. So it'll take a little longer. I'll try and get chapter 4 up tomorrow, but as I'm rewriting it all now, it might take a little longer. Hang on tight!

Also, thank you so much for the great reviews! I hadn't really expected anyone to read this, it was mostly for writing practice. :p

Roots Radicals

"Back to the land of the living, eh?"

Anna responded by presenting the back of her middle finger in Kristoff's general direction as she headed towards to kitchen area. It was the next morning already, according the GMT time zones. In Anna's mind it was still very early morning, despite both hands on her alarm clock hanging around the number 1, and the daylight breaking through cracks in her blinds.

Kristoff laughed, sitting up from where he had been sleeping on the sofa and reaching out to the coffee table to his tobacco, tin and lighter. Anna finally began to speak after he had retrieved and started to utilise them.

"I think I still got a tiny bit of green left if you want it." She paused then, reaching up to grab some mugs from a top shelf and switch the kettle on. "I'm gonna head out later and grab some more before the show – the others'll want some after we get back."

He nodded, "Pick me up a 20 as well, will ya?"

"Tarzan's getting his own so I'll get a que for you, Robin, and me."

Having finished rolling and lighting his cigarette, he passed her a thumbs up. She smiled, placing a tea-bag into each mug and filling them both with hot water when the kettle finished boiling. She ended her time in the kitchen by dashing both drinks with milk and then made her way over to Kristoff carrying one in each hand. After placing them both onto the coffee table, she went to pick up his tobacco and tin, going then, to roll a cigarette of her own.

They spent the rest of the morning (or, more appropriately, afternoon) like this, talking. Mostly speaking of the events of the previous night, which became the events of the night to come, which, of course, eventually became politics, as it usually did.

"What do you mean our slot's taken?"

"I'm sorry, Anna. The club's going through a rough patch. These guys sold out and you barely broke even."

"Fuck that! We always play the first Friday of the month!"

"Anna, I said I'm sorry…"
"No! Fuck you Oaken, how many times have we filled in for you, how many fucking times have we been there!"

"Anna, there's nothing I can do – they sold out."

"You fucking fascist! You've always had it in for us you fucking capitalist counter-revolutionary cunt!"

It was Kristoff who interjected now; "Anna, give it a rest. If Oaken's goes down we won't have a regular Friday gig."

Anna threw her hands in the air, walking away from the staff's entrance to Oaken's bar with Tarzan following shortly behind, leaving Kristoff and Robin to defuse to situation.

"Oaken, man, we need this job. Isn't there anything you can do, man?"

"Yeah, we'll support, anything you need. We got nothing else."

"Yeah! We'll support, come on, you know we know how to get a crowd going, man."

"It's what you keep hiring us for."

"We'll run backstage hands, man. Anything."

"Come on, man!"

Oaken stroked his beard a few times, then leaned down to whisper to a young man dressed in black.

"Alright, alright. I've sent word. It's up to the band if they want a support or not."

This resulted in cheers from Kristoff and Robin, scoffs from Anna and silence from Tarzan, and though it was a short wait for the answer, Anna took the time to further voice her anger at the 'notion of even being some crappy, over-produced, pop-punk, music-for-the-masses support act'.

"Remind me to get the spray paint from my car after this, Kris."

"I'll do no such thing, Shortstack. Now get the fuck in and get ready, we're on soon."

Despite first apprehensions, Anna actually enjoyed the night more than usual. But it might have just been the fact that Oaken's was completely filled rather than the same few tens of people that usually came to their gigs, and that the newcomers actually seemed to enjoy their music; the club hadn't moved that much for them since Robin's graduation a year ago. But the moment it was over, Anna held true to her word and ran her guitar back to her car, opening the door and attempting to stuff it in the back (it was difficult, but not surprisingly so, she only had a tiny 3-door '99 VW polo), then going to pick up the spray paint from her bag she left in the behind the driver's seat, in the footwell.

"Anna…"

Thud. Right on the car roof. "Motherfucker!"

"You're not…"

She took a few cans from the bag and lifted her head up and away from the roof of the car. "You can either join me, or report me, comrade."

"Anna, I don't…"

"I have bandanas in the bag, Kris. Either take a can or walk away."

Reluctantly, Kristoff brought his hand forward to take a can of paint from her arms. "Pass me a hat. Quickly."

"What sounds better to you; 'Corporate sellouts' or 'Eat shit yuppie scum'?"

He stopped for a moment. "'Eat shit yuppie scum', easy." He stood back to admire their handiwork. "What about 'Fight politics not punks'?" He then asked.

Anna nodded; "'Fight police'" she corrected, "Also put 'Profit = Theft', I want these fuckers to know they put me back 2 weeks' worth of rent."

Kristoff chuckled; "You and me both."

There was silence between them for a moment before the red-head sparked up again. "'Tory party bus'?"

"Nahh, the country gets that title."

"Good point."

"Oh, how about 'Free as the rent we don't pay."

"Some Johnny Hobo - love it. That goes on in red." She smiled, maybe this wasn't worth losing rent money over, but it sure made the pair of them feel a fuck load better about it. "You done yet?"

Kristoff was about to answer while spraying the last word when a voice came from behind both of them.

"'Yuppie scum'?"

Immediately, Kristoff screamed out. "Coppers! Leg it!" He dropped the can of paint he was holding and turned tail, sprinting out and around the north corner. Anna, meanwhile, was frozen on the spot. The main act. The corporate sellouts. The yuppie scum was Ethereal Requiem, and Elsa was stood before her, silent as her eyes ran over the artwork sprawled across the side of the band's tour bus. Slowly, when she had regained control of her body, Anna sidestepped over to the sole can Kristoff had left. She bent down to pick it up; her gaze never leaving the other girl.

"You owe us 4 weeks of rent." At this, she ran towards her car, driving in and starting the engine. Hopefully, the night was dark enough and with the light from her headlights, Elsa wouldn't be able to read her license plate. If it was possible, then she could always go to her neighbours and get them to vouch that she came straight home after the show.

It only took her 5 minutes to drive home that night, compared to the usual 10. And took Kristoff another 30 minutes on top of her 5 to sprint back. Robin and Tarzan were already there, blazing through the que that Anna had bought earlier that day.

"You've been here the whole time." pronounced Robin, not even bothering to look up from rolling a joint as she burst through the door.