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: Lemme tell you, there will be three songs, but one in particular, that will sit at the top of my Spotify Top Songs Played in 2023 playlist. Cannot tell you how often I listened to these songs over and over and over and over again. Have fun, y'all. I got way into writing this chapter. Way into it. A huge earthquake could've hit and I wouldn't have noticed.
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.
"Then sleep now… WE RIDE AT DAWN!"
Sarah turned from where she was tuning her bass to see a whole group of people come down the stairs into the basement from the door that led to the Bartowski side yard. Almost like an avalanche of nerds…
Only…
"Oh God. What the hell?" she heard Chuck breathe from behind the equipment he was setting up. He stood to his full height and thrusted his hands out in a massive shrug. "Lester! Why are you dressed like Harry Hamlin in Clash of the Titans?!"
The dark-haired, much shorter Nerd Herder grabbed the red cloak thing he wore over a too-short white toga thing and flung it back over his shoulder and out of his way, holding his hand up. "Hark! Here cometh a vagrant! Charles! Ask not 'oh god what the hell', for tonight we must give them a show they will never forget! The show of all shows!"
"Lester Patel!"
He dropped the act immediately, turning to the brunette who'd snapped his name from the corner where she was coiling an extension cord. "Yes, ma'am, Eleanor? M-Miss Bartowski?"
"I made cookies. They're upstairs. Go up and bring them down here for everyone. Pronto."
"I'm on it!"
"Lester, seriously, what are you doing dressed like this?" Chuck asked as the shorter man stepped past him to go to the other staircase. The rest of the Buy More crew finished filing into the basement. There must've been around ten of them in all.
"I thought it'd go with the theme. What movie is more metal than Clash of the Titans, Charles?"
As Lester rushed off, Chuck wandered closer to Sarah, both of them watching the retreating figure of the young man head up the stairs, holding aloft an invisible sword in front of him as if he would emerge into a gladiatorial stadium where he would meet monsters and beasts.
"You know what?" he asked quietly.
"Hm?"
"I'm too confused to argue with that."
She giggled, reaching up to ruffle his hair, earning a dreamy smile. He looked at his watch then. "How're things going with you folks over here? We've got a bit of time yet. Feeling okay? Good? Need anything? More water? A beer?"
Sarah shivered. "No beer just yet. When we kick this set's ass and the cameras turn off and this is all over with…? Then I will absolutely get blackout drunk."
The rest of the band cheered, Mac lifting an invisible glass with a, "Hear, hear!"
"Hell yeah! Love the enthusiasm, baby," he hummed, miming a kiss in her direction as he backed away towards the equipment again.
She grinned at him for that, then looked down at her bass guitar. Her own bass guitar with her own strap. A strap that had its own importance considering her grandma had bought it for her when she got into her first band, a ragtag little band. All she'd had before this one was a crappy thin thrashed strap she got at a garage sale for two bucks.
This was how it was supposed to be. Her own clothes, her own stuff.
She hadn't been talking out of her ass when she told Chuck they'd have dinner delivered and eat it in bed. She enjoyed her penne, sun-dried tomatoes, broccoli…all in a creamy red sauce. And when the containers were empty and stacked on the floor beside the bed, she went back to enjoying the blissful make-up session with her boyfriend that she frankly hadn't wanted to end even with the fact that she had to start getting ready.
Getting ready meant high-rise black leather pants that clung to her figure every inch of the way, ending just above her ankles. She pulled on her favorite black boots with spike buckles along the side and a bit of a heel. She had a fashionably slit-covered white shirt with Chrissie Hynde from The Pretenders holding up her telecaster by her head as she played it.
And over that, she wore one of her favorite pieces of clothing she'd ever owned. She'd bought it during a solo trip to Seattle in a little thrift shop near the Museum of Pop Culture, inspired by that crazy tornado made of guitars at the EMP.
She'd packed it for Joshua Tree, prepared to wear it because it gave her masses of confidence, but the costumers had balked at it and instead locked her in that disgusting white thing she could barely move in.
It was a long-sleeve jacket with pointy leather lapels, a zipper up the front. It was cropped, a wide belt cinching it shut along the bottom hem that sat against her abs just above her bellybutton. A denim vest was sewn into it over the torso, but leather covered her arms with silver studs running down the lines of her elbows. One stripe of leather cut down the middle of her back, more studs running up and around to the shoulders, and on that stripe of leather was a patch she'd had an tattoo artist ex of Dylan's create for her. It was a vintage-looking grey skull wearing a flower crown of white gardenias. She'd sewn it on herself after it was gifted to her. Not without poking her fingers with the needle a few times. She'd bled for this damn jacket.
And while the professionals at the music video shoot had balked at it, when she shrugged it on and stepped out of her walk-in closet, Chuck had popped his head up from where he sat at the end of the bed, putting his sneakers on after their shared shower that lasted a little longer than either of them had meant for it to. (Sorry, drought!)
The look he'd given the jacket, the way he leapt up with one shoe still untied, dashing to her, gently reaching out to put his hands on her upper arms. The awe in his face, the way he breathed, "Ooohhhh myyyy Goddddddddd". He'd turned her around with a, "Lemme see the back!" and freaked out over the patch with the silver studs flanking it.
It had been night and day. His reaction…versus the reaction she'd gotten from the "pros" in Joshua Tree earlier that morning. The way he embraced this versus the way they'd made her put on something horrendous that had made her feel like a fake. She'd stuck her hands out to the sides in a shrug, then gestured at the whole ensemble with a "This is me, right?"
The way he'd looked at her with a softness and an excitement, both, made her feel exceptional. And then he'd breathed, "Definitely you. So much better."
It had taken her too long to practically sew herself into the leather pants, they were so tight…otherwise, she and Chuck might've arrived later than they were supposed to arrive after the way he'd reacted to her outfit. It wasn't even that he made her feel beautiful, sexy, whatever else she'd seen pass through his amber-colored eyes. He had certainly made her feel those things. But he also made her feel real, human, and most importantly, confident in who she was. Faults and all, she was Sarah Walker, singer and bassist in the metal band, Critical Hellfire. He made her feel like she could kick ass at anything.
It was like a drug, being around this guy.
"Hey."
"What?" She looked up from her bass now, shifting some of her hair from her face. She wore it down, loose, with no product, just natural-looking waves heated into it. How else was she supposed to make it fly as they performed? That crazy teased shit they'd done this morning had made it like stone, it had barely fucking moved. Not rock'n'roll… At all.
Zondra took a deep breath and bit her lip. "You nervous at all?"
"Terrified," she admitted. "But I also feel like we're about to conquer the whole fucking world…? It's a weird mixed bag."
"Right? Same. I've never felt…nerves before. It's weird."
Sarah smiled a little, glancing up at the clock, and then she moved in closer to her guitarist. "Riz. Babe. Remember that talk we had in the van on the way out to Joshua Tree yesterday? You reminded me that I'm a human being who feels things, and that it's okay. Well, so are you. Nerves? That's normal. If you weren't nervous right now, I'd have some questions." She smirked and the other woman smirked back.
"What does one do with these…nervous feelings?" Zondra asked teasingly.
"Good question. Hold, please. Let me bring in my very own emotions analyst." She turned and caught Chuck's attention with a wave of her hand, and she ushered him over by curling her finger.
He dropped everything and rushed to her side. "Yes, Miss Walker? Need somethin'? Water? Cookie? Sweat rag?"
"Sweat rag?" Sarah giggled at her boyfriend. "We haven't even started playing yet."
He shrugged. "Captain Awesome installed these new lights and they're kinda warm."
"Devon did that?" Zondra asked, her jaw dropping. "I thought you guys had, like…electricians or something."
"His grandpa started a big electrician repair type company in LA and Mr. Woodcomb's technically the heir. Awesome was supposed to take up the family business too, and he went through all the trade school stuff and everything when he was in high school, but they had to be okay with him pursuing another calling." Chuck shrugged.
"Okay, so you're telling me this guy is both an electrician and a heart surgeon…" Zondra asked, her jaw gaping a lot like Sarah's own jaw was. Chuck nodded. "And he looks like a fuckin' model." Chuck nodded, tilting his head as if to say What can ya do? "And he's a ball of joy and genuine kindness."
"All of the above, yes."
"If he's also dynamite in the sack, your sister should get him checked, see if he's some kind of bot put here to spy on us by some kind of alien master race waiting to pounce on our planet to kill us and steal our resources."
Chuck made a face, then shook himself. "I don't…want to think about him…and his sack abilities…weirdly enough. Since he's, ya know, my sister's boyfriend. Ew." Sarah and Zondra exchanged an eye roll. "But that whole spiel about robots and aliens has me all sorts o' revved up. We need to have a Terminator/Predator back-to-back moviethon, Zondra. You and me. It's happening. You can come, too, Sarah…of course…only I know you don't want to. Yep."
She was already shaking her head "no", an amused and also adoring look on her face as she watched him appeal to her best friend's heretofore hidden geeky side.
Zondra laughed, shaking her head. "You're a fucking nerd. And I accept."
He pumped his fist with a "Yesssssss!"
Sarah was charmed out of her mind by the miniature little bond that had just formed in front of her, but she decided to get them back on track by tugging a little on the drawstring of Chuck's zip-up hoodie. "Hey. Feelings Guy. We need your help."
"Oh, I'm Feelings Guy now?" He pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You know what? I just thought about it and I'm not mad about it."
She giggled. "We're nervous. We aren't used to nervous. It doesn't really happen to either of us. What's your advice?"
"Oh! Exciting! You're asking me for advice. Okay, um… Wow." He shook out his hands excitedly, his eyes flicking back and forth as he wracked his brain. So fucking cute. "Shit, you know what?" He looked up at both of them with a slow smile. "I'm nervous, too. I just realized it." He let out a funny little one-syllable chuckle, looking like he was in awe. "I've got second-hand nerves."
"That's cute," Zondra said. And she was right.
"It's silly," he admitted. "But I have 'em anyway. And you know what? It's good. This is good. Nervous isn't always bad. Channel 'em in the right direction and nerves can be good. You've played these songs, like, a million times. Right?" They both shrugged. "Don't worry about who may or may not be watching the stream tonight. Just lean on each other, accept the nervous feelings, embrace 'em, even. And know you're all goin' through it together. Leeeean on each other," he repeated. "Like you always do. You're a band. The best band, for my money. And—" He stopped, his eyebrows raising. "Oh shit, and just like that, my nerves are gone. Poof." He snapped his fingers.
Sarah could only smile at him, shaking her head as he backed away, a big toothy grin on his face.
"That…actually worked," Rizzo breathed in shock.
"Yeah, it did." She turned back to her best friend. "I thought he might have something up his sleeve."
"He's good."
"Mm, I kinda like 'im."
Zondra snorted.
Sarah glanced at the clock again. Shit, that long hand was creeping closer and closer to ten-thirty. But also…not shit. Because Chuck was right. She had her bandmates to lean on. They worked with each other, for each other. And they'd done these songs a million times. They could do 'em in their sleep. Nothing was different.
The acoustics were a little different in this basement, that was true. They'd never played in the basement of a house before. But maybe that was just because California, and LA especially, didn't typically have houses with basements. Only the hundred-plus year old houses, like this one.
Chuck and Morgan, and the rest of their friends and family, had chipped in to make this place as acoustics-friendly as possible, though. And she didn't know how she would ever repay any of them. Chuck, especially. She still thought he'd had to have put a shit ton of his own personal money into everything.
She really didn't know what she could do for him, because she knew he'd never ever accept money, even though she had a lot of it. She stored that away for later, though. She had to focus. It was business-time.
}o{
Chuck's phone rang and he quickly fished it out of his pocket, silencing it just in case, and answering it. "Hey, Jake. What's going on?"
"Got some…news, man."
His heart dropped as he moved away from everyone into the corner of the basement near the staircase that led outside. "Oh God please don't cancel."
"Shit. Shit, I'm terrible at starting conversations. I'm not canceling! You're still on in, like, ten minutes."
Chuck let out a sigh of relief, having to brace his palm against the wall to keep from keeling over. "Oh thank God. Well, what's this news then?"
"Sorry," Jake said drolly. "I suck. Shouldn't have scared ya like that. But that's not the news. The news is that Beckman will definitely be watching tonight. She's sent Vera a note to have a good show, she'd be watching on the way to the airport. She's got some music festival in Chicago she's gotta be at, I guess."
Oh. Holy shit.
The most important person was going to watch Critical Hellfire do their thing. Oh God.
"Honestly, Vera's shitting bricks she's so freaked out. Like, she's trusting me and Dan, but she's worried if this goes south… Well, Beckman is the biggest reason why Vera Carlotta has a show still. If she gets pissed off enough, she might murder me, Dan, and Vera."
"Wow, great," Chuck muttered. "No pressure."
"Hey, look. I didn't say that to freak ya out. I heard that demo, man. If they do these three songs even slightly as well as they did those demos, you're solid. Vera is going to eat it up, and I know Diane will, too. But I wanted to give you the news in case that changes anything."
"Thanks, man."
Chuck was already weighing his options as he hung up a moment later. He turned to watch as Sarah conferred with the rest of her band. Would they want to know Diane Beckman was definitely watching? Would it make those nerves explode through the roof?
But they'd want to know. They'd want him to tell them. He at least owed them truth, if nothing else.
They could handle it.
So he pocketed his phone and walked over to the band, holding up a hand apologetically. "Hey. Hey, guys." He winced at Sarah with a, "Sorry to interrupt you, Sarah. I just got a call from Jake Horne." Their faces all went white. "Don't worry, nothing bad," he rushed. "Only, he just confirmed Diane Beckman will be watching. For sure. Absolutely."
"Oh, fuck," Sarah mumbled. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."
They all looked at each other, and then it was almost as if a calm came over them. He'd never seen anything like it before.
"Well, then, I guess we gotta rock this mother fucker, huh?" Dylan played a riff on his guitar, thrusting a little bit.
Chuck reached over to high five him. "Damn right."
He sent Sarah a reassuring look then as he went to the camera on the base where Morgan was, looking through the view. "All good here?"
"Stellar. It's so crisp and clear, dude." He leaned in closer. "I'm glad we bought these instead of renting 'em. Our show is gonna kick ass now."
"Correction, Morgs. It will kick even more ass."
"Yessss!"
They high-fived.
Chuck moved around to where Captain Awesome waited, headphones on over his ears, looking strangely serene. As Chuck approached, he pulled the headphones down to rest around his neck.
"Ready, Awesome?"
"Born ready."
"Remember to watch for my cues. And listen, we're trying but we aren't pros at this even considering how much we practiced today, so if you catch me in some of Morgan's shots, it is what it is. Make sure the band gets the biggest focus though. Especially with Lester dressed like a dumbass, maybe we won't do many, uh, crowd shots." He winced.
Awesome leaned in, serious all of a sudden. "Dude, yeah. What is with that?"
"I don't know. I've learned not to ask questions when it comes to Jeff and Lester, bro. Because I don't want the answers."
"Fair." Awesome nodded solemnly. "Well, I'm ready, bro. We've got this. It's gonna be…wait for it…"
They both drawled, "Awesommmmmeeeeee" together, did their special one-hand handshake, and Chuck moved on to his sister.
She turned as he approached and immediately tugged him in for a tight hug. "I can't believe you did all of this and it's actually happening," she said, a trill of emotion in her voice.
"Oh man, not a tone of surprise…"
She smacked his shoulder as she pulled back, chuckling. "Stop that. Of course I knew you would. Especially because I was helping." She shrugged modestly, smirking at him teasingly.
"You're being glib saying that, but man, you all came through so hard for me, and for Morgan, and I'm super grateful." He squeezed her shoulder. "Doing this for the band meant a lot to me. But…" He leaned in close, lowering his voice. "You guys helped me with Sarah too and that means even more."
Ellie shook her head. "Nuh uh. You did that, buddy boy. You got them to leave that set and follow you back to LA. None of us did it. You got that incredible woman to give you another chance after you put your foot in it pretty badly," she said with a wince. He winced back. "I'm proud of you."
"Well, thanks, sis. I'm proud of all of us."
Before either of them could say anything else, Morgan announced they only had five minutes 'til showtime.
Dylan held up his hand then, getting the cheers to die down. "Hey, folks, uh…I'm gonna try to just say it quick because we still got a lot of shit to do and I only think it's right we get an actual inspirational speech from the fearless leader of all of us, especially today." He gestured at Chuck. Chuck widened his eyes and shook his head vehemently, but Dylan ignored him. "I just want to thank everyone. I don't even think I've met some of you properly. But you went all in on a couple o' kids with metal hearts, maybe not even knowing what you were getting yourselves into. And no matter what happens, I want you all to know we're in your debt. We love you, nay, we adore you. Thank you."
He then thrust his hand out towards Chuck again.
"Nah, I'm good. You guys got it handled," Chuck tried.
"Speech…" Jeff drawled slowly. "Speeeech…speeech…"
The rest joined in.
"Speech! Speech! Speech!"
"Fuck all of you," Chuck said, and then he rolled his eyes, moving to the couch they'd shifted out of the way for the performance, as it was still kind of centered in the room, and he climbed up onto it. "Okay, okay, okay, fine. Fine." He held up his hands and the basement went quiet.
"We love you, Chuuuuck!" Captain Awesome yelled from behind him.
The rest laughed.
Shaking his head, he pointed at his sister's boyfriend. "Thanks, Awesome." Then he turned back. "Uh. Shit. I dunno. I don't think what this group needs is an inspirational speech, honestly." He shrugged, his hands on his hips. "Everyone knows exactly what to do and how to do it. We know Critical Hellfire's gonna rock, because that's what they do."
"Say it…" Sarah called up to him.
He met her gaze, feasting on the warmth she was projecting at him, the deep well of adoration. "You guys wail."
"Yessss!"
Everyone chuckled.
Chuck felt himself blushing a little at the way her adoration became something else just a tad more heated that he was prepared for.
"Um, you guys don't need inspiration from a nerd who runs a Twitch stream out of his basement, okay? We've got everything we need right here. In Critical Hellfire. And here." He pointed to his chest. "In our hearts."
Everyone chuckled again as he teased them.
"We have an opportunity here to make our very own local LA band into metal gods—and goddesses—titans," he corrected himself, pointing at Lester and his ridiculous get-up.
Lester made a warrior fist and growled. Chuck made a face at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes. Weirdo.
"Diane Beckman, CEO of North Star Audio, will be watching this performance live. I just got confirmation," he said, taking his phone out, waggling it. There were murmurs of excitement and awe. "Oh, which reminds me. Please silence your phones."
"Oh shit," Mac muttered, and everyone scrambled to do that, mumbling amongst themselves.
"But really, folks. I love each and every one of you. I'm grateful. As always, I wouldn't be anything without my people. We wouldn't have built this city with rock'n'roll in two days if we weren't all pitching in. Damn, I even saw Jeff with a hammer. It scared the shit outta me, but I saw it anyway." They laughed. Jeff shrugged. "I probably should've worn somethin' nicer for the occasion honestly…" He tugged at the front of his hoodie. But Sarah let out a catcall whistle, making everyone crack up as he gave her a wide-eyed look. She did a sexy "rawr" at him then, baring her teeth and wrinkling her nose, earning a few, "Oooooooooo's" from the peanut gallery.
Jesus Christ, she was trying to kill him in front of everybody.
"Look, just put on a good show, huh? I love y'all. Thank you. Let's kick ass."
He hopped off of the couch jauntily, teasingly bowing as he got cheers from the room, and then he glanced at his watch. They were almost there. Chuck motioned for Morgan to start rolling as everyone got into their places.
But because he couldn't help himself, he went up to Sarah and pulled her to the side, for some semblance of privacy. He leaned in close, nuzzling her nose with his, lowering his voice to say, "Hey, just real quick… If I'm running around with that camera and I trip on a wire and knock over everything and stuff catches fire and it's an unholy mess…" Her eyes widened a bit. "Will you still love me?"
"Yeah," she hummed immediately.
"Oh, good." She giggled. "Listen, I know you don't need anyone to tell you this, least of all me, but you're gonna eat this gig up the way you eat all your gigs up."
"I know," she said in a voice that was just as quiet. He loved that answer. There was a flash of something yummy in her blue eyes then and she bumped her nose into his this time. "And just so you know, if I could kiss the hell out of you right now, I would. But this lipstick smears."
Filled with a sudden wave of utmost confidence, he breathed, "I'd say we could raincheck, but I have way more than a paltry kiss planned for you later tonight, so buckle up, Blondie."
She gasped as he leaned in and placed a slow kiss to the spot just behind her ear, gently shifting her hair out of the way. Those blue eyes were blazing as he backed away from her then, hoisting up his camera and setting it on the stool so that he could get to it easier.
Morgan rushed around to the marker they set up for where they'd introduce Critical Hellfire to Vera and her audience and Chuck hurriedly sidled up against him.
"You ready, buddy?" he asked out of the corner of his mouth.
"Fuck. Yes. Let's go."
They did their handshake quickly, and then turned back to the camera.
Suddenly, the large screen they set up near their steady camera flickered and there was Vera Carlotta, sitting in her iconic red velour couch, looking like Elvira but with calmer hair. She grinned at them. "Hi, guys. I'm Vera."
"Oh. Oh we know, we're big fans!" Morgan blurted. Chuck nudged him and Vera snickered.
"Don't worry. We have an ad going right now. I just wanted to check and make sure the connection's still good. My tech guys said they did a test run with you earlier today, but still. Can't be too careful. What with you know who watching."
"Nah, we hear and see you just fine," Chuck said. "Um, I'm Chuck. This is my cohost and best bud, Morgan. It really is…a freakin' honor, Vera. You're an icon."
"Thanks," she said with a grin. "Your band is there?"
Chuck shifted to the side. "All ready to rock."
"Great. Let's get this shit goin' then." She met gazes with someone behind the camera. "We're ready? Okay, count me down." He heard a woman's voice countdown from five to one in French, which was interesting, and then Vera sat up a bit straighter and did her sultry smirk. "Okay, welcome back. Tonight we're doing somethin' a little different. Special. Because I despise you all so much," she said with a wink. "We're giving you a live performance. That's right. And we're bringing in a couple of boys from over Los Angeles way. Folks, meet Chuck and Morgan from Games N Rock Sessions! Hello, boys."
Morgan slung his arm over Chuck's shoulders, and Chuck did the same back. They were clinging to one another, subtly, trying to derive strength. This was Vera Carlotta—Vera FUCKING Carlotta. And there were currently millions of people all over the world most likely watching this. Seeing their faces. Chuck had no idea how he looked, as he only had the video chat with Vera to go off of currently. Devon was silently watching it over at his editing set-up, and Chuck saw the man pump a thumbs up in his direction.
"Hi, Vera!" he chirped, waving with his free hand. "Hi, everybody! We're Games N Rock Sessions."
"Well, we're… we're the guys who host…Games N Rock Sessions. Technically," Morgan corrected.
"So true, buddy. So true."
Vera let out a genuine chuckle. "I hear you guys have a little somethin' somethin' you wanted to show us all."
"Yes," Chuck said, and he pulled his arm down from Morgan's shoulders, clasping his hands together in front of him. "We have a local band here, ready to go. They're built, born, and bred here in LA. Metal down to their souls."
"And extremely sexy," Morgan apparently felt the need to add.
Vera propped her chin in her long-nailed fingers and raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Sexy? Now I'm listening."
Well, that worked out.
"Shall we just let 'em maybe speak for themselves?" Chuck asked then. "Don't know that an intro would do them better justice than what you're about to have your ears and souls blessed with."
Vera lifted her arms for them to proceed. "I wanna see what all the fuss is about. Let's go, boys."
Morgan nudged Chuck so he took the lead, leaning in a bit closer to the camera. "Folks… I'd advise you to sit down and fasten your seatbelts. This is… LA's very own …" He growled the last part. "Critical Hellfire."
}o{
Chuck and Morgan swept out from in front of the camera, splitting off into opposite directions, their arms outstretched towards the band behind them.
And it was showtime.
Chuck had hoisted the camera into his hands and rushed in close, just as he said he would, starting things off with the camera focusing on her pick hand. She glanced back at Mac, he nodded, and slammed his sticks on the snare right as she did a slide into her first note.
Chuck slowly backed up, dragging the camera up to her face. She pursed her lips in a kiss, winked, smirked, and as both guitars slammed into the song with slides of their own, Chuck reached back to signal Devon, hurrying out of the picture as Morgan took over, capturing the whole band. She growled a, "Come on!" into the mic, following it up with an, "Oh!" as she leaned back.
She turned to grin at Dylan as he let his note run long, then leaned back into the mic and gave off a smug, cocky laugh. She fell right into the lyrics, not bothering to try to perfectly recreated Vince Neil, instead creating her own growl.
Chuck swept right back in with his handheld camera, focusing on her then. And she knew exactly what he was doing, so she played along with him, winking again at the camera as she changed the lyric to, "When I was just a young girl, had to take a little grief. Now that I'm much older, don't put your shit on me!"
She hoped the women viewers felt that shit in their bones as they jumped into the first chorus. And he left her side again so that the audience could see the whole band through the second chorus.
As she bellowed, "Scream…" into the mic, the rest of her band swung in right after with, "SCREAM!" She continued with, "And shout!" And they followed with, "SHOUT!"
"Rip that mother out!" She took her hand off of the neck of her bass for a split second to mimic holding a beating heart up, snarling into the camera as she grabbed her bass again. "You just gotta saaa-hayyy…"
"HEY!"
She couldn't help grinning at the way the entire basement chimed in with Dylan, Mac, and Riz on that last yell.
"Primal scream!"
"SCREAM!"
"And shout!"
"SHOOOUT!"
"Oooooo tear it out!"
All four of them jumped in then to harmonize the last, "You just gotta saaaaaaaaaaay…"
She snapped, "GET IT!" as Chuck snuck across to focus on Zondra as she took lead on the guitar riffs.
She could feel a fire overcoming them as the Buy More crew got into it, yelling with the band at all the perfect points. Critical Hellfire was firing on all cylinders once they slipped into the musical break, and Dylan got prime focus as he slid into the guitar solo, thrusting his hips. Mac howled into the mic as he accompanied Dylan's solo. As Chuck slipped out of the picture, she glanced at Mac with a wolfish grin and he grinned back, managing to twirl a stick in his fingers. God damn, she hoped Devon caught that with his editing.
Then she did another slide into the third verse, her bass and Mac's drums taking center stage again.
"Hey, man!" they all yelled together.
She took the rest: "Get outta my face! I deal with my problems at my own pace."
Her bandmates swung in to yell a few words of the rest of the verse with her, and then they all landed together on, "Crash and burn!"
They did their riffs, and then came the most important moment of the entire song, that they had to get perfectly right. The silence hit majestically, a pristine break in sound, and bam! Right back into the chorus again, only louder this time. "Primal screeeeam!"
"SCREAM!"
"And shout!"
"SHOUT!"
"Tear that sucker down!" She reached out a hand and tore it down in the air in front of her.
For the rest of the song, they all got swept up, along with their makeshift little audience, and they began to stomp and dance, laughing with each other, beaming, Dylan playing back towards Mac, both of them sticking their tongues out at each other in prime KISS fashion.
Dylan even broke off to do a different solo than usual, shredding on his guitar.
Sarah let in one last high pitched note, shutting her eyes and just going for it.
And with one last riff they all played together, they ended the song with one last note, no ringing, no sliding, they cut it off as one. It was fucking perfect.
There was a beat, and the basement exploded.
}o{
Chuck let out a, "Owwww'ho'ho'howwwwwwwww!"
Holy shit, they'd absolutely killed it. He felt energy crashing through him. And his palms were dangerously sweaty from how excited their performance of "Primal Scream" had gotten him.
He subtly dried his palms, coming to a stop next to Morgan.
There were still two more songs after that? Holy shit.
There was a weird buzzing sensation in his pocket and he fished his phone out. It was a text from Dan Proctor.
"MY DUDE THAT FUCKED ME UP. Heads up, DB on her way!"
…What?
What did that mean?
He flashed the screen at Morgan who pulled his eye away from the camera viewer to look, his brow furrowed. It took him a second, and his smile died, his face going pale. "What?" he breathed.
Chuck shrugged almost violently. DB? As in Diane Beckman? On her way? To…where? To Vera's show? To…to the airport? Certainly not…here. She wasn't in LA, right? Why would she… No. That wasn't what he meant.
Chuck and Morgan met each other's wide-eyed gazes, there was a beat, and then they both went, "Naaaah."
"No way, man," Morgan mumbled.
He was right. There was no way.
Chuck sent back, "They're sick, right?"
Then he stuck his phone back in his pocket and prepared for the second song as Sarah shifted her mic a little. "I'd like to introduce everybody to Dylan."
"Maybe get the kiddos out of the room for this one," Mac added into his mic.
Dylan winked and let out an evil snicker. Then he turned to his friend and hilariously began to stomp in place, growling, "Dirty little mind! Dirty little mind!" Mac came in on the drums. "Dirty little mind…dirty little miiiiiind!"
Chuck let Zondra's bad-ass solo riffs get his camera's focus, and then he moved out of the way, letting Morgan's camera take the shot.
God damn, Dylan swinging his hips, practically eating his mic as he sang, going all in as he sang the lyrics, his eyes wide and crazed.
"She got a dirty!"
"DIRTY!"
"She got a dirt-aaayy!"
"DIRTY!"
"Dirty little mind!"
He thought he had this synchronized with Awesome now, moving in and out of the picture, taking close-ups of Dylan as he pretended to lick the mic as if it was…something else—which, honestly, hell yes…the audience would eat that up. He tried not to be biased, but it was hard to keep from letting the camera gravitate back to Sarah, too. Especially when she had wicked slides on her bass.
Chuck mouthed "She's B-A-D!" with the band as he focused on his job.
But Dylan was having himself a performance, stomping around, back and forth between his mic and Sarah, and as he said, "I got her on a stick! Stick! Stick Stick!" Sarah and Mac took the instrumentals away.
Dylan was ridiculously hilarious, and as Sarah and Mac began chanting in the back, Zondra began making heinous sex noises into the microphone.
Nobody.
Was.
Prepared.
Critical Hellfire kept up their antics, and even as she riffed a few solo notes, Zondra whimpered, yelped, and moaned.
Chuck tried to keep his footing, letting the audience get close-ups of the whole band.
When he zoomed in on Zondra Rizzo, she whined, "Harderrrrr!" into her mic, and gave the audience the most salacious, menacing grin. He had to brace himself with his feet planted firmly on the floor to keep his knees from buckling. Dear God.
She stopped then as they broke back into the chorus. The whole basement yelled, "DIRTY!" with the rest of the band, hopping up and down along with Dylan.
He grabbed the mic right out of its stand, leaned down into Chuck's camera, and all on his own, finished it with a, "Dirty little mind, dirty little mind, dirty little mind!"
They all played one last note as he grunted.
Chuck hurriedly backed out of the shot, watching for Awesome's signal and he swung his camera out to the side, knowing Morgan's camera was taking center stage now as the basement exploded again.
"Kids can come back in again," Mac announced, making the room laugh. Sarah had grabbed Zondra's shoulder in the meantime. She was keeled forward with her other hand clutching her bass for dear life, unable to catch her breath from laughter. Chuck wondered if that had been part of their performance before or if Zondra had just jumped all the way in on the entertainment level. Chuck thought maybe it was the latter, because Dylan trotted over to high-five her and swoop in to kiss her cheek with an, "I love you, Riz", beaming so hard Chuck thought his face might break.
The band engaged in a bit of banter then and Chuck went into his pocket, feeling a buzz again. It was Dan.
"Critical Hellfire. Sensation. Almost there. She gonna try to see last song live."
Chuck showed it to Morgan again. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "That sounds like…"
"Is she actually…"
They looked at each other, narrowed their eyes, and again: "Naaahhhhhh…"
He looked at Sarah and flashed her an okay sign.
She nodded, kicked at the air between herself and the band, scooting her wire out of her way in the meantime, and said, "This one's for all the girls, ladies, women, women identifying, nonbinary, and everything in-between. But it's especially for the witches."
As they started their cover of Warlock's "Dark Fade", Sarah added gravel to her voice to mimic Doro and Chuck immediately fell in love.
The way she bellowed "you could die tomorrow"… Hot damn.
She threw her hair back out of her face with a flick of her head as the musical break started, and he was entranced. Not for the first time.
This was just who this woman fucking was.
He was drowning so deeply in their performance, trying to move in to get good shots of their instruments, letting Mac have a few seconds of air time on his own too, he didn't notice the short woman in her fifties, cut in a crisp, dark grey suit like she'd just stepped out of a high-level political meeting or something, the red hair pulled up into a severe updo on top of her head.
Nobody really noticed, until Chuck slipped back in next to Morgan, bobbing his head to the music, and he felt a hand squeeze his shoulder. He turned to see that his sister had left her post managing their makeshift audience (Ellie Bartowski, stage manager) and was standing behind him, eyes wide as she stared towards the back of the basement.
What was she…?
He turned.
Fuck.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
FUCK.
Diane Beckman.
The Diane Beckman was standing in his basement, intrigue and…was that annoyance, too?…on her face as she stared at the band, her arms crossed.
She was in his basement.
In his basement.
His basement.
He was going to faint.
A/N: I'm going to faint, too!
Listen, I know I'm the corniest corn to ever cob for writing this whole entire fic, but I haven't had this much fun writing a thing and you'll have to excuse me for not giving a FUCK if it's corny or not. (giant full-body shrug)
Review if you can. Thanks for reading! More soon!