Notes: I've got a bunch of 'em.
First, I'd like to thank the academy for letting me trample all the little people . . . oh, wait. Scratch that. Lame humor here, folks, just smile and nod. Seriously, though, I'd like to thank everyone who's reviewed so far. You guys so reek of awesomeness.
Second, to "Rogue Girl" - you asked me a question and didn't leave any way to contact you, so here goes. You had the other two characters right, but "Sparky" is a nickname Jubilee gave to Chamber, though he's not exactly thrilled with it.
Third, I know Jubilee's ... whatever in here isn't technically a glowstick, but I couldn't think of what the rods with the plastic antennae-things on the end are actually called. Sorry.
Fourth, I have never attempted and don't (really) condone violence on boybands. But if by any chance you happen to get close enough to take one out, do the world a favor and nail Justin, and let him know that he's white and should accept it and get on with his life. Then go buy the Disturbed CD and repeat to yourself that you will not be tainted by N'Sync. Thank you. That is all.
******
"This is it, guys! We're in MSG!" Jubilee bounced excitedly on her heels, swinging around and narrowly missing thwapping Logan in the head with her purse. "Whoops. Sorry, Wolvie. So whaddya think?"
Sam looked around the building, not altogether impressed. "Well, it's...big."
Jubilee rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd think it's big. The biggest thing in Cumberland is the post office, right?"
"Nah. The dog pound was bigger," Sam corrected absentmindedly, jumping when Paige punched him in the arm.
"Don't encourage her."
"Ah'm not."
"Yes, you were."
"Ah was not!"
"Were."
"Not."
"Were!"
"Not!"
"Tell me again who's older?" Logan muttered so that Jubilee could hear. She giggled and began rummaging through her purse for something. With her distracted, he turned his attention back to the brewing fight.
"Oh, an' while we're at it, Ah called Momma an' ya wanna know what she told me? Your birthday is this Friday, just like Ah said it was!"
Paige grinned innocently. "Whoops. These things slip my mind sometimes."
"Uh huh. Well, that's good, though, 'cause Ah didn't get ya anything."
Paige's grin gave way to a slacking jaw. "Sam!"
He dodged her hand when she moved to smack his arm again. "Would you stop that? Lord, girl, I didn't do anything!"
"That's why I'm mad! Sam, I'm turning eighteen! That's gotta count for something."
"Ya wanna know what Ah got when Ah turned eighteen? A card from Grandma with a dollar in it and someone's name scratched out an' mine wrote in. You get to go to a concert. Stop complaining."
"Found it!" Jubilee cried, producing a glowstick from her bag and hitting the on button. "I got it when I came here with Jean and Scott. Cool, huh?"
"Yeah," Logan agreed halfheartedly, watching as Paige pulled a digital camera from her own purse, even while standing in front of the sign that stated in big, bold letters that no recording devices were allowed into the actual show. "Can't you read?"
"Pretty well. But Bobby showed up yesterday and offered me ten bucks if I got some pictures of Britney Spears for him. I get twenty if they're good shots."
Sam blinked. "We've barely even got through the gates and you're already showin' us that we're babysitting two smugglers. Great."
"That's another thing, Sam," Paige started, dropping the camera into her purse and turning to face her older brother. "I'm going to legally be an adult in six days. Why do I need a babysitter?"
"Don't start with me right now, Paige."
"Stop talkin' to me like you're my father!"
"Stop talkin' to me like you're my spoiled daughter, then!" Sam shouted back, saying a quiet thank you when Paige stormed off, Jubilee in tow. "Lord Almighty, she didn't used to be that way. What happened?"
Logan looked over at the younger man, and the answer came to them both at once.
"Emma."
Several moments of silence passed before they realized the girls weren't coming back.
"We'd better go find 'em before they kidnap one of those guys."
Much as he wanted to argue, Sam saw the logic in Logan's statement, so off they went in search of their charges. To their surprise, the found them both already at their seats.
"Maybe they're not gonna be that bad." Sam tried to sound confident besides his skeptical expression.
"The group or the girls?"
Sam looked around the rapidly-filling arena, then to the stage where a giant, multi-colored, blinking N'Sync sign was being lowered from the ceiling. He gulped. "Ah...don't know."
Logan nodded knowingly, his face a mask of grim certainty.
******
An hour and a half later, both were ready to run for the hills. Logan's problem was only that he didn't like being cooped up with so many screaming teenage girls. It made him nervous. Sam, on the other hand, was ready to turn homicidal. The screaming girls didn't bother him, and it wasn't even so much the group itself. After all, he had many younger siblings and had survived the New Kids On The Block invasion several years earlier.
They, however, were nothing like this.
He wasn't sure if it was the clothes - bright, garish costumes that appeared to be fashioned from British regular uniforms last seen in the American Revolution. Maybe it was the lights, or even the way their front row seats gave them a perfect view of how Lance's hair had been spiked to the point it could very nearly be a weapon. There was something about the group that could turn an otherwise calm, intelligent girl such as Paige into one of the screaming bottle-blonde zombies around her. What confused him more than that was why Jubilee was screaming for them when he had always known her to be a diehard Offspring and Blink fan. Even though he didn't like them either, he could have tolerated them. At least there, every guy he saw didn't look as though he'd just been marched into a concentration camp.
Suddenly, Sam found himself bitterly wondering why the girls hadn't won tickets to see the Dave Matthews Band, or better, Garth Brooks. Or Faith Hill. Or - dare he hope? - Shania Twain.
Logan looked to his right to see Sam staring up at the ceiling, eyes glazed over and a dopey grin on his face. "You okay?" He asked in genuine concern, slapping the younger man on the arm.
It wasn't N'Sync, it was Shania Twain on stage! Dancing! Singing and...morphing into Chris? Sam blinked as he was knocked from his daydream, desperately clinging to the fading remnants.
"Just worried about ya. For a minute there, I thought ya were gonna turn into one o' them." He pointed to their wards, both of whom had been turned into screaming, starstruck girls, something neither normally was. It had to be something with the group itself. Maybe they were really hypnotists out to conquer the world. They must be stopped.
"They must be stopped!" Sam echoed his thoughts aloud, eyes wide and maniacal. "They're gonna take over the world an' turn us all into their zombie slaves!"
Logan huffed. "And ta think...we thought Magneto and Sentinels were the enemy all this time. Why didn't we see it was a boy band?"
Sam, already driven too far, grabbed Jubilee's glowstick and held onto it by the plastic glowing ends, watching and waiting as Justin Timberlake walked ever closer to his doom.
"Guess what? It's gonna be -"
Unfortunately, a glowstick to the forehead prevented him from finishing his part of the song. Time seemed to slow, and eventually seemed to stop completely. So did the music and the screaming. When the unconscious teen idol fell to the ground, however, all hell broke loose. The rest of the group made a mad dash for the backstage area as many angry, anti-pop boyfriends in the crowd who happened to be dragged to the concert saw the attack as the opening salvo of a full scale war. They stormed the stage, destroying the props and speakers. The blinking N'Sync sign fizzled and fell to the ground with a deafening thud.
"Get him!" Logan ordered, pointing to Justin's prone form being carried out by several teenage girls. Sam waded through the chaotic mess stampeding for any exit they could find and yanked the boy from their grasp, then looked back at Logan for guidance.
"Now what?"
"Run!"
And so, Sam ran as quickly as his legs could carry him to an exit.
******