Track 7: Sheep in Wolf's Clothing
PLEASE NOTE: As you may have guessed from the last chapter there is gonna be a bit of metalcore bashing throughout this story. I'll say this in advance to avoid flamers: In case you haven't figured it out by now, this story is merely for laughs so don't take it seriously. There is a 100% chance that bands you may like will be at some point subjected to parody but don't freak out about it ok? We're all here for a laugh so take it with good humour and please don't take any of this personally or seriously. That said though, some of these bands that will be henceforth referred to really are fucking awful but you will find out about that later on in this chapter.
Now sit back, relax and enjoy! Oh and reviews are always nice too!
The boys of Soul Reaper sat together at their old booth back at the club that had given them their first ever gig. It was on that cracked wooden stage that smelled like a wet dog that Soul Reaper had shown the world exactly what they were made of. It was that stage that carved out their destiny and led them down a path of unimaginable adventure. When those nervous young rookies first stepped out on that stage they had never even thought about making it big enough to get to Deathfest. They certainly didn't predict facing off against Satan either.
There was no mistake; it was one wild and crazy ride.
But they wanted to ride that crazy train once again.
Ichigo smiled at his favourite waitress, his first ever groupie and as she passed him a drink a CD soon followed. It was one of the limited edition Japanese releases of Hollow, the one and only album they had ever made.
Ichigo tilted his head and glanced at the speakers in the corner, belting out one of their other tracks, "I See Red".
Fond memories swirled within his mind and brought a thin smile.
"I miss the good old days..."
"Same here!" Renji yelled, already drunk. "We need to get back together and soon! Who knows how long it will be before they replace us with some new crap!"
As if on cue the recording stopped and several roadies began mic checking and setting up instruments.
"Ooh, a live show eh? I hope they don't make Ichigo's mistake and jump into the barrier fence!" Grimmjow howled with laughter, once again proving that he would never-ever, ever, never forget the hilarious blunder from their first ever performance.
Ichigo scowled and rubbed his cheeks which weren't just burning from shame and embarrassment, but also the memory of the intense pain he had suffered that night. That barrier, still there with the unrepaired dent, was a well-known master of fencing.
"It's mocking me..." he snarled under his breath. Thankfully his friends were drunk enough to overlook it entirely.
After several minutes of quietly fuming and making death threats to a barrier fence and its family, Ichigo sank into the booth and took a hearty swig of ale as he studied the silhouettes taking the stage. They were so thin, like stalks of wheat swaying in the breeze. Still, Ichigo shrugged it off and waited for the band to make their entrance.
"Alright guys, we've got a special guest tonight!" an unseen announcer declared. "These guys are straight from the underground scene and they have caused a splash in the metal scene lately ever since being signed by Victory Records! Raise your fucking hands for the one, the only... Design the Skyline!"
The bottle of whiskey stopped just short of Grimmjow's lips as he frowned, "That's a weird name...The fuck does it even mean?"
Renji scrunched up his face and growled, "I swear if it's another jazz fusion band I'm gonna shove a corkscrew so far up their-"
"Renji for Christ's sake there are children here!" Ichigo hissed.
"No there aren't! This is a bar!"
Ichigo blinked and as if to make sure, he glanced around the darkened room. "Oh...Right...Well. Shut up!"
The crowd fell silent as the lights went down and all waited on bated breath for the performance to begin.
Then it began. Nobody was really sure whether it was the performance or simultaneous epileptic fits, but something was definitely going on up there. The guitars wailed in agony as notes that didn't sound like notes squealed out from the amps with a shrill whine. A keyboard seemed to be malfunctioning beneath the guitar lines. Either that or it was trying to kill itself. Then the drums kicked in.
And out.
And in again.
The drumming was out of time while the other instruments were thrashed around like toys in the hand of kids who had forgotten the amps were still turned on. Nothing connected for the first few minutes; all the while a sappy skater boy in purple skinny jeans did...vocals of some description. Not well of course but he was certainly making noises with his mouth...
Then the other vocalist, whom had been standing at the foot of the stage for the first half of the song doing absolutely nothing, switched on something on his fluoro plastic microphone and sang. Somehow even when dripping with auto-tune his vocals were still terribly off.
Somewhere in the back of the bar a baby started crying and the neighbourhood dogs were howling.
"Argh! What the fuck is that?!" Grimmjow cried, covering his bleeding ears.
Renji hid under the table in the foetal position while Ichigo glared at the punk ass fools desecrating the stage that had brought Soul Reaper to life. Slowly he rose to his feet and let loose an almighty roar which cut the power to the entire building.
The generously entitled band stared at the flame-haired demon with indifferent expressions, half due to the fact that their stage make-up was so thick it prevented them from fully opening or closing their eyes.
"Who are you?" Ichigo grunted.
"Uh..."
"Who are you?"
The frontman turned to his bandmates as if to confer and then faced Ichigo again. "We're uh...Like...Design the Skyline."
Ichigo's eyes were blazing. "I asked you already...Who are you?"
They stare at him with cocked heads. "We're uh...Musicians...Or something..."
The other vocalist nodded and jumped up in front, "Yeah! We're metalheads!"
"LIES!"
The earth shook beneath them as Ichigo strode forwards, hand clenched into such tight fists they had drawn blood.
"Musicians you say? Metalheads you say? All I hear is lies! Who are you and what do you want?!"
There was another silence as the band members appeared to confer once again.
"We're Design the Skyline, dude. Who the fuck are you?"
Glass smashed from behind as Renji lunged forward with the jagged shard of whiskey bottle clenched in one hand. He howled for bloodshed but was caught by security before he could make the stage.
"Lemme at 'em! Lemme at 'em dammit! I'll kill 'em!"
"You're drunk."
"I'll fuck their skulls!" he roared, voice trailing as he was dragged outside.
Ichigo watched on in shock and once again addressed the band (if it could be so called). "You guys are the single worst piece of shit I've ever had the misfortune of hearing. I would rather listen to Grimmjow pass a kidney stone than listen to this crap! Hang your heads in shame and get off the stage!"
The fierce former frontman turned back to the crowd in search of their unanimous approval, but received nothing more than hisses and boos.
"Go home you ignorant son of a bitch!"
"Fuck off loser!"
"Shut up and let them play!"
More irate roars filled the room. The guards left behind circled around the two remaining members of Soul Reaper and blocked their movements in all directions. Cornered in the booth, Ichigo jumped up on the table and stared down the crowd that had betrayed them.
"Don't tell me you actually like these trashy little runts?!"
One of the waitresses spat at him and scowled, "Humph. You're just jealous because they're so young and pretty."
Ichigo blinked. "What does that have to do with anything? I couldn't give a flying fuck if it was prince charming on guitar and Mr Darcy was singing with a wet t-shirt on! These guys are shit!"
"Just cause they make more money than you! What an insecure little bitch!" another patron shouted.
"We don't care about money!" Grimmjow snapped, finally having stopped the bleeding of his ears enough to pay attention to the situation. "If I cared about money I wouldn't be paying the tab for my friends here!"
"Grimmjow, just let me handle this..." Ichigo groaned. "Look guys, we're talking about music here. Money and image don't even fit into the equation here. Surely you can tell the sound of such sloppy, rash-inducing shit like that when you hear it?!"
There was a short silence before one of the girl near the back squealed, "I think the singer is hot! Great band!" She was accompanied by a chorus of cheers that drowned out Ichigo's furious curses.
"Shut up!" he cried, but the crowd ignored him, lost in meaninglessly shallow appraisals of the soppy twig-thin waifs on-stage. "Shut up!" Ichigo repeated, but the cheers only grew louder, making his cries impossible to hear.
"I said shut up dammit! Shut up!"
Ichigo was getting red in the face. Rage and something else coursed through his bulging veins as he struggled to maintain his composure. Not exactly sure what was going on, but certain that it wouldn't be good, Grimmjow slid to the far side of the booth and shrank in his seat.
Ichigo hunched forward and clenched his fists, looking as if a demon were about ready to burst out at any moment now. He cursed and grunted and snarled in an attempt to suppress it, but the crowd was getting louder and the ridiculously bad band had started up playing again. The lights were irritating his eyes and the sounds were assaulting his hearing. He could taste hair-spray and moisturiser in the air, not sweat and iron. Everything in the room was harming his senses.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up! Grrrrrr..."
He took a deep breath.
"I MAKE SEX TAPES WITH A LOVE PILLOW OF MY LITTLE SISTER!"
…
The music stopped.
Feedback hissed through the amps as slowly, the entire crowd turned to glare at him, all in perfect sync. That baby started crying again and the dogs howled.
The sheer fact that it worked made Ichigo smile with smug satisfaction, but that was clearly the worst possible place at the worst possible time.
"Y-y-you...You...With Yuzu...I..." Grimmjow was speechless. He just shook his head like a disappointed father.
The crowd wasn't.
A bottle was flung from somewhere and Ichigo was struck on the temple, falling from the table and crashing to the floor. He blacked out before long, but that may have been a good thing.
He was about to be lynched...
Somewhere in Europe Stan was counting a stack of money, smoking a bloated cigar and laughing like a fat cat. That of course is ironic because he was tall and thin and according to his medical records he wasn't a cat either.
"Ha ha ha! Perfect! Those fools are falling hook, line and sinker! They'll buy anything, even compilations and best ofs from bands that only have one album! The posters are simply printed on normal printer paper but they pay the premium price for it! The shirts with completely unrelated designs are selling out worldwide! Already the pieces are falling into place!"
The phone rang.
"Hello, this is Stan."
"Hey bro!"
Stan grinned. He recognised that voice. "Hello brother, how nice of you to call. How were the 'negotiations' with Activision?"
"Ha ha ha! I got to crush a few skulls while I was there. Next time I might wear gloves!"
Stan sighed and took drag on his cigar while his brother kept on rambling.
"There were a couple of those hot nerdy chicks there too! I got to do some warm up drills with my fingers if you know what I mean!"
Stan pinched the bridge of his nose quite hard and groaned. "Ugh, yes I know what you mean brother, but what of the plan?"
"Well when they finished shitting their pants they were pretty impressed! It's all green lit now bro!"
"Excellent. Well done. I shall reward you when you return."
The cheer on the other end of the line caused the speakers to crackle like flames. "All right! This time I want a French chick! And make her wear a maid costume!"
Stan rolled his eyes. "You won't stop until you've desecrated every single stereotype on earth will you?"
"Only the chicks bro! Only the chicks!"
Stan chuckled, "Of course my dear brother. You are desperately lonely after all."
"I'm not lonely!" the brother barked back.
Stan chuckled once again. "Of course you're lonely." he exclaimed with patronising cheer. Then the facade dropped and the venom seeped into his tone as he added, "You're a gamer."
He hung up before his brother could shout his angry reply.
The beast massaged his temples and reclined in his chair, the only one in the room not splattered with blood.
"Well, well, well. Even that basement-dwelling troglodyte can be useful from time to time...Maybe I'll let him rent out a granny flat when I rule the world? Ah ha ha ha ha!"