Critical Hellfire
By Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: Chuck and Morgan are co-hosts of a locally popular streaming channel in which they discuss all things metal while playing video games. Their lives are uprooted when their demo guy hands them THE demo of the ages—a band called Critical Hellfire, fronted by singer and bassist Sarah Walker. AU Charah.
A/N: Started this in April, finished it in June. I had so much fun, it is the BOZOiest thing I have ever worked on. Cannot wait for folks to read it. Make sure your straps are on all sturdy and stuff because we're off!
Disclaimer: I don't own CHUCK or any of its characters. I don't own any of the songs mentioned in this chapter, this fic, or anywhere else for that matter. I am making absolutely zero dollars writing and posting this.
"He's here. Oh my God. I'ma faint."
A hand connected with his shoulder, shoving at him to spin him around, facing the staircase that led up from the basement directly to the side yard.
The long-haired legend himself slowly climbed down the last few steps and looked around the basement slash studio he'd found himself in, eyes wide.
"Go to him. Go to him, Chuck."
Chuck glanced at his best friend over his shoulder with an annoyed look. "Remember when we started this enterprise and we said it was fifty-fifty, down the line?"
"I can't talk to him. I'll pee my pants. He's a legend, Chuck."
"You have to talk to him when we're live."
"Go!"
Rolling his eyes, Chuck Bartowski trotted over to the bottom of the staircase, grabbing the outstretched hand of the long-haired legend that was Monster Electric.
"Monster, welcome!" He winced. "Mr. Electric…"
"Doctor Electric works," the big-time Chicago-based gamer said. They all stood there for a moment, the basement going silent. "Guys, I'm just messin'."
"Oh!"
They all laughed, Morgan's nervous titter sounding off behind Chuck. He reached back, grabbed Morgan, and pulled him forward. "This is Morgan. We're the hosts of the Sessions."
"No, yeah, right. You guys are pretty big out here, I've heard."
Chuck just shrugged modestly. "Well, we've got a few fans who are, um…"
"Outspoken," his bearded brother-from-another-mother filled in.
"That. Yes. Very…passionate."
"That's why I'm here, right?" Monster shrugged.
"Thanks for coming, dude. We appreciate you. Come on through, check out the set-up."
"Oh hell yeah, this is an OG Atari." Monster Electric checked out their studio, the gaming posters and memorabilia, the comics, the action figures, limited edition "crap", as Ellie liked to label it.
"First edition, man."
Morgan was tugging on his sleeve. "That's Monster Electric, bro. In our basement." Chuck sent him a look. "Okay, fine. Your basement. It's kinda ours though."
He checked his watch then. "You said you got a tournament in the morning, yeah? We set the livestream for nine. That's in fifteen. Work okay for you? We'll only keep you for, like, an hour. Maybe less."
"Sure, bros."
"Can't believe you came all the way from Chicago to be on Games N Rock, Monster. Dude, this is epic. I mean, I'm this close to literally p—"
Chuck cut him off before he could repeat the peeing thing. "We're stoked you were able to come out here for that Fortnite tourney and double up to guest star on our show. I know you have loads of prep to do, so it means a lot you're taking this time. So here, I dunno if you have your own headphones and controllers."
"For sure." Monster reached out towards the silent partner who'd slinked into the basement behind him and the guy put a briefcase in his hand. He set it on their couch, knelt in front of it, punched a code in on the keypad lock…
Chuck and Morgan exchanged wide-eyed looks as the briefcase beeped and he gingerly opened it, revealing a set of pristine wireless headphones and a controller that looked brand new.
"Okay, dudes. Ready when you are."
"Holy shit," Morgan breathed.
"Well, that was special. I feel blessed to have seen that happen," Chuck muttered. "Right in front of my eyes…" He cleared his throat as Monster just peered at them. "Okay, cool. Let's get the show on the road."
After the presentation the professional gamer laid out for them, Chuck felt supremely foolish snagging his own wire headphones from the coffee table they set their webcam and big screen TV on. It took Morgan a few to connect everything, get the screens pulled up and dialed in.
"Testing, testing… Hear that, Morgs?"
"Loud 'n clear, buddy."
"How's it sound for you, Monster?"
"Sublime." He gave them an okay sign with his left hand, then settled back against the couch. "Bro, I wasn't expecting the couch to be this comfy."
"He said our couch is comfy," Morgan hissed near Chuck's ear.
Chuck nudged his friend a bit and they went to sit on either side of Monster, fixing their headphones, grabbing their own controllers, and setting up the countdown on the Twitch stream going live. "Twenty seconds, y'all good?"
"Stellar."
"I'm always ready," Morgan growled. Dork.
"Oh shit, is that real? That's how many people are waiting for this to start?" Monster Electric pointed at the screen. "That's over a thousand."
"Yeah, we get pretty good views. They're all local, just around the LA area pretty much. We can't break outta our usual group, but it pays the bills."
"Shit, that's pretty cool, still."
"And five, four…three…two…"
Chuck lifted his controller in a wave and beamed at the camera.
"Hello! And welcome! You bad baddies! I'm Chuck." He gestured across Monster towards his partner in crime.
"And I'm Morgan!" Morgan waved with his own controller. "And this is Games N Rock Sessions."
}o{
"Shit!"
She caught herself against the door, feeling the horrible snap under her foot, her body lurching forward as she cleared the last step up into the warehouse.
Looking down in chagrin, she saw that her stiletto on her left heel snapped off. "Fucking fuck," she groused, stooping to take the heel off altogether. She liked this damn pair. They had the perfect height wedge at the toe to give her more steadiness when she was on stage.
And they looked cool when she kicked her foot out at the end of a good slide.
Sighing, she took off the other heel, holding them both in one hand, unlocking the padlock, sliding the door open, and spotting her bandmates crowded around a laptop, their backs to her.
They threw their heads back in laughter.
Zondra Rizzo noticed her first, smiling over her shoulder, pulling away, and crossing towards her. "Shit, Sar, you could've told us you were here and we could help you with the gear."
She took one of the amps out of Sarah's other arm, then slung a bag of wires she'd had on her shoulder over her own forearm. "Boys!" she barked at the others. "Dylan! Mac!"
They jumped up, their long hair swishing around their shoulders as they spun away from whatever they were watching, hurrying over.
"There's still some in the back of the van. This'll be an upgrade at least. Maybe if our stuff looks brand new these venues will stop trying to con us out of pay and take us seriously," she growled, slapping Mac on the shoulder in thanks as he led the way out of the warehouse door and down to where she'd parked the band van, tugging his hair up into a tie at the back of his head.
She and Zondra followed the boys out as Sarah reached down to set her heels on the inside of the door, deciding she could fix those later and opting to go barefoot.
"Is this a cactus?"
Sarah shrugged, coming around the back. "Yeah, it made me think of you, Dyl. You're always talking about nature being a settling force so I thought we could try to keep a plant where we jam. I don't trust myself with something difficult like an orchid, so I got a cactus."
"She is beautiful," he breathed, pulling the large pot out and ogling the long green stalks that poked up from the stumpy, needle-covered cactus. "And she looks ready to pop, too. This was very thoughtful."
"Look, I'm up for anything that'll get us better gigs. I'm sick of these dumps that try to cheat us out of what we deserve. We're why people show up in the first place and the sons of bitches steal most of our take." She was exhausted by how much of a pattern it had become.
"Yeah, f'real," Mac grunted, grabbing his bass drum and gasping. "Is this what I think it is?!"
He turned it around to show everyone their band insignia expertly inserted into the large circle of the bass drum. "Raaaaad!"
They all filed inside and Sarah let Dylan set up the cactus wherever he wanted it, taking a bit of joy from the wide smile he wore. He didn't smile much, and then, she couldn't help figuring he didn't usually have much to smile about. Most of his take from the gigs they played went back to his family that lived on the Hopi Reservation in Northeast Arizona, the tribe he left when he was seventeen, six years ago. As he didn't talk about that part of his life or his identity much, none of them pried.
He set the cactus on a table where a bright beam of light spilled down from the large glass warehouse windows and shone on its glistening green head. "Ehhhhh? What do you guys think?"
"Perfect spot for it, man," Mac said, setting up the new bass drum with their band insignia amidst the rest of his drums. "I feel like this place is complete now. New gear, bass drum without a hole in it…"
"Yeah, man. I can't believe you punched a hole through your own drum. What the shit were you on that night?" Rizzo asked, setting down the bag of new wires without the dangerous frays. Those, they were throwing out. Immediately.
"Rock'n'rooooooooollllllll!" he wailed, sticking his tongue out and doing the devil's horns hand gesture.
"Idiot," Sarah laughed, walking over to the laptop. "What were you guys cracking up about over here, anyway?"
"Oh shit, yeah. Mac, brother, we gotta roll that back."
"On it."
They both pushed in front of Sarah and she took a step back, holding her hands up with a, "Scuse me", watching as Mac reached in to do as he was instructed. "What is this?"
"A Twitch stream."
"Sounds like a tweaker. What the fuck's a Twitch?"
All three of them spun around, their jaws gaping.
"Damn, Walker, even I know," her guitarist said, swishing her long, dark, loose hair back over her shoulder. "My gramma in Iran even knows what Twitch is. She called me the other day and said, 'Nave, I saw a man giving guitar lessons, why don't you do that and make some money?' and I asked her where, and she said 'It was on the Twitch!'"
They all laughed.
"Oh, it's a streaming thing. Fine. There are a million of those. Sorry I can't tell the difference between them." She put her hands on Dylan's shoulders and leaned over him to watch the stream. "What's this one?"
"Just watch these guys. I rarely catch 'em live, but they go live usually at nine, sometimes ten, at night, depending. Sometimes they'll go for hours through the night. Sometimes they'll start earlier if they've gotten too sleep deprived."
"What do they do?"
"Video games."
"What?!" Sarah cracked up. "None of you give a shit about video games, and I know that for a fact."
"It doesn't matter. I don't know shit about what they play. I only know it's hilarious to watch them play it. They get so mad at each other, but deep down, you know there's a deep love." Dylan sighed dramatically.
"Are they a gay gaming couple or something?" she asked, peering at the three men on the screen.
Mac threw his head back with a laugh and the others chuckled. "They aren't gay, but their relationship is a very deep and beautiful platonic love between two straight men. You straight boys could learn something from 'em," he said, nudging Dylan.
"Um, I'm very secure in my sexuality." The twenty-three year old lifted his braid. "I let this fly loose, chicks are all over me."
"I didn't ask if you got laid. I know you get laid. I found a bra in the back of my Camaro the other day and I know that wasn't one of my exploits, ya bastard."
"See, I don't get that shit," Zondra said, shaking her head. "That leaving your bra around shit. How do you forget your God damn bra somewhere? You took it off, and you just, what, forget to put it back on again? The hell? Like, you can tell it's not there whether you have big tits or not."
Mac let out a, "Nah! Ah!" sound, holding up his finger. "I'm hitting play! Hush up about bras and tits!"
They all chuckled and he pressed play.
Sarah was skeptical at best as guitar riffs came from the speakers, the words GAMES N ROCK SESSIONS bouncing on each corner of the screen. The words hopped away then and three men sat on a couch, just their torsos in view, all of them wearing bulky black headphones over their ears, smashing their hair down.
"Hello! And welcome! You bad baddies! I'm Chuck." The tall guy with dark curls coiling atop his head waved a game controller back and forth. Then he reached around the guy in the middle to point at the shorter guy with a beard.
"And I'm Morgan!" The bearded guy waved with his own controller. "And this is Games N Rock Sessions."
"Or, if you get lazy and you don't feel like using your mouth, spouting extra syllables 'n shit, you can refer to us as…" The curly-haired one paused dramatically.
He and the bearded one exchanged a look past the guy between them and growled together, "The Sessionsssssssss!"
"What is this mess?" Sarah breathed.
"SHHH!" Dylan and Mac shushed together with almost a violence, making her widen her eyes at Zondra who just looked back at her in amusement.
"This is an extra special show, right, Morgs?"
"Right. Because we have an extra special guest. I'm especially excited." The other guy gave him an affronted look. "Okay, fine. Sure. You're super excited too. But I discovered Monster, technically."
"You did not!" Curls leaned forward with an annoyed look.
"I did. I remember it like it was yesterday," the short guy argued. "We were both wasted on—"
"Habzabbazabbaz. Ahem. We don't…heh…hafta go down that road." Curls shot the camera a sheepish look. "Heh. Anyway, this is Monster Electric. The Monster Electric, pro gamer extraordinaire. Thanks for bein' here, man." He reached over with his right hand and shook the long-haired guy in the middle's hand. "We 'preciate ya."
"No, s'good to be here. Can't wait to whoop you both at the same time in Super Smash Bros."
"THEM'S FIGHTIN' WORRRRRDS!" the bearded guy called out, cupping one hand around his mouth.
"Ho hoooooo!" the tall guy hooted. He shrugged one shoulder then. "I mean, you are probably going to whoop us both at Super Smash Bros. But it's cool."
They began to play then, the tall guy leaning forward to tap something just offscreen. A box appeared in the lower half of the screen then. "Sound off. You guys see the gaming screen okay?" His eyes seemed to be reading something. "We're getting a bunch of 'All goods' so I think we're all goods."
"We are all goods. We're such goods," the bearded guy chirped sweetly.
"Awww."
The guy in the middle was shooting them both looks, and for the first time, Sarah heard a quiet giggle sneak out from her chest.
As they started, they began cooing at each other on either side of the their guest as they picked characters to play as.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Chuck?" the one named Morgan laughed. "Did you seriously go with the ice climbers? Dude, you're such a goof."
The other one affected a Robert Plant voice and sang, "We come from the land of the ice and snow—!"
This time, all of them laughed as they watched, and it seemed the seemingly immovable pro gamer who was their guest wasn't even immune this time. He even broke into a grin and chuckled.
And as the round started, the video game played out on the screen at the bottom. She didn't think she'd laughed so hard in her life. Their antics were so off the wall as they battled on the shifting game map.
Morgan even let out a scream as his character fell off of the edge at one point, plummeting to his death. Sarah was in tears watching as the taller one—Chuck—leaned forward and cackled meanly, only for their guest to kick him off of the edge as well.
"Aw shit," he said with a pout, and this time his friend leaned forward and cackled back at him.
They were demolished by their guest numerous times, and as they kept playing, beers were cracked open. And the more beers were consumed, the louder and more raucous it got. The conversation turned to music then…specifically rock & roll. A twist she wasn't expecting.
"Wait, wait. So you're telling me Cinderella is your bread and butter, Monster? Cinderella? There are so many bands out there and you go with Cinderella?!" Morgan groused.
"Are you insulting our guy Monster?" Chuck challenged. "Hoooow very dare you. This is my basement, you butthead. We don't drag Cinderella in this basement."
"Clearly Morgan's never heard 'Gypsy Road'," Monster said, winning yet another round, hollering, and lifting his fists over his head. "My Gypsy Rooooad! Can take me hoooome!"
"Fucking hell, have either of us even won a single one?"
"I lost count."
Chuck leaned in close to the screen and screwed up his face like a squirrel or something, twitching his nose and making little squeaking sounds by sucking air through his teeth. It made her giggle, as stupid and goofy as it was. "Ah! Our baddies have been keeping count. Let's just s—Oh wow. Yeah, we've lost all of them." He winced and sat back. "Yikes."
"Fuck, man."
"Told you," Monster said with a cocky shrug.
"Told you," Chuck mocked towards the camera, gesturing at the pro gamer with a "Pfft" and giving him a gentle shove to make the older man laugh. "Cocky bastard."
"If I had a dime for how many times someone said that to me… I'd have about thirty cents," the gamer said.
"OH HO! He's got jokes! Hear that Morgan?!"
"This is what they do," Dylan said through a chuckle. "Look, in the comments. Everyone saying Monster Electric is like this ice king who never breaks, always serious. Stone cold. Here he is shooting the shit and lightening up with Chuck and Morgan because that's what Games N Rock is."
Sarah's phone rang in her pocket and she silently cursed, as she was actually thoroughly enjoying this weird shit, and she backed away from it, pulling her phone out of her pocket and rolling her eyes as she saw who was calling.
"Yeah, this is Walker."
"Not interrupting anything, am I?" Bob, their booking agent, such that he was, asked.
"Nope. We just got our new gear."
"New gear?"
"Yeah. I bought it."
"Oh yes. Your granny's money." She grit her teeth. One more bad gig and she was suggesting to the band they vote on whether they fired the asshole and just booked their own shit moving forward.
"I see it as an investment," she explained, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm investing in my band, my friends. I'm investing in our future success."
"Right, right. Well good. I've got a battle of the bands type deal here. Ever been to Mosh Mansion?"
"Fuck yeah, Mosh Mansion. I've been trying to kick their door in for, like, a century. It's a struggle to get your band on their stage if you've got a vagina or are even vagina-passing."
She said it like that on purpose because she knew it annoyed the hell out of Bob when she talked about how skewed the playing field was in their industry. Women rockers still struggled to get footing anywhere. Especially the kind of deep root neo-eighties hair band rock they dabbled in.
He seemed to decide to just ignore that. "So do you wanna be on the stage at Mosh Mansion or not?"
Sarah froze. "What?"
"You'll play three sets around some pretty shit bands. Seems like a good deal to me. Trash attempt at a punk band called The Pillheads, and another hard rock group with a shit lead singer called The Blood Faucets. You're going to look like Led fuckin' Zeppelin in comparison to them."
Sarah spun to look at her band, waving her hand frantically at them. They stopped the Twitch they'd continued watching and looked at her, eyes wide. Zondra hurried over, breathing, "What?"
"So three sets throughout the night. You said it's battle of the bands?"
"Yeah, you don't get nothin' for winning, of course. They go by the roar of the crowd at the end. Loudest roar wins. You'll get…something. Probably. Maybe a gift card to Guitar Center or some shit." Sarah snorted at that. "Nah, there'll be some prize money. But you know people go to Mosh Mansion, girlie. People with connections."
Sarah mouthed MOSH MANSION at her bandmates. Dylan leapt up to his feet, spreading his arms out to the side, ecstatic.
"Holy shit, Mosh Mansion?!" Mac hissed.
"I…don't know what to say, Bob," Sarah breathed, buzzing.
"I do," Zondra muttered, eyes still wide.
"Say yes and fuckin' thank you," their booking agent said snidely.
That crack made her want to say fuck you but instead, because her band was more important than her pride, she dutifully said, "Yes and fuckin' thank you, Bob."
"Good girl." Fuck you. Truly. "I'll set it up."
"And the pay?" she asked, pulling her shoulders back. "We're getting paid for this gig this time, yeah?"
"I don't care," Mac whispered. "It's Mosh Mansion."
Zondra covered his mouth and glared at him, then turned to give Sarah an encouraging look.
"There's a paycheck, pretty sure. I'll work out the paycheck details with Doc."
"Okay, text me when you have an update on this. We're not doing free shows anymore."
"You do the shows I get you, Miss Thing. I'll keep in touch."
Just like that, he hung up.
"Why is he such a fucking prick?" she hissed.
"Did I hear right that Bob just got us booked at Mosh Mansion?" Mac asked.
"He's a fucking prick who just got us booked at Mosh Mansion," she replied. "Both things can be true."
"Mosh Mansiiooooooonnnnnnnn!" Dylan screeched, climbing up onto the back of their couch and literally back-flipping off of it.
"Don't do that!" Zondra snapped, slapping his shoulder after he landed and staggered back over. "You're gonna snap your neck and where do we find another guitarist in time for our gig at Mosh Mansion?!"
"Yeah, bro. If you're gonna do a backflip, at least do it onstage when it'll cause a riot in the crowd," Mac added.
Sarah sat against the back of the couch and let out a breathless laugh.
Mosh Mansion.
Holy shit, this could be the start of something.
A/N: Chapter 1 is in the books, folks. So much more to come. So so much more. Please don't report me to this website's feds for stupidity. Thank you.
-SC