-
Yeah, I think you guys probably saw this coming. If you haven't read my previous fic yet, Diary of a Mad Guitar Player, (http://animorphsforum.com/index.php?topic=12064.0) I'd recommend doing so before this, but it isn't essential (especially considering the massive levels of crap that Diary was). I'm hoping to make this one better, or at the very least more cohesive, but I'll let you guys be the judges of that.
Origin of a Mad Guitar Player
Prologue
As the day was approaching its final hours, activity at RAF finally started to slow down. It had been a few months since gh's encounter with Harrison, and recent events – the most noteworthy and drastic of which being Leatherhead's transformation – had forced him to move on with his life. As was recently common with many quiet nights in RAF, gh was sitting in his thread, instructing Leatherhead on bass. The reptilian child was coming along quite nicely with the instrument, probably due to a combination of gh's patient instruction and some sort of innate talent.
gh was just about to end the practice session when the sound of a door knocking resonated throughout his thread. “It's unlocked, come on in!” he yelled, and the sound of his door opening swiftly followed as a tall, shadowed figure entered. “Thanks for coming, Cloak,” gh said, a little more chipper than usual. “Make yourself comfy.”
“Hi, Mister Cloak!” Leatherhead chirped. The reptile had grown considerably since his transformation – fitting, considering that he was essentially a six-year-old child. Still, he was beginning to catch up to his adopted father in terms of height. It was easy to imagine him being as large as a Feraligatr when he stopped growing.
Cloak took note of the guitar player's thread, which he had never actually been in before. The room was sparsely but tastefully decorated, with two beds, one presumably for Leatherhead, a few guitars, a couple of amplifiers, a few other instruments, and a desk with a laptop and multiple empty soda bottles sitting on it. “I hope you don't mind the clutter,” gh commented, noticing Cloak's traveling gaze. “I haven't really had much of a chance to clean.” Something about gh seemed a little off to the Realm Walker. He was much more friendly than was normal, more talkative. He generally had a much less conventional way of interacting with others.
“It's not a problem,” Cloak said, finally addressing his fellow RAFian. “Something on your mind?”
gh sighed, dropping the more affable attitude. “I've been doing some thinking, Cloak. About that . . . that incident a few months ago.” gh paused to collect his thoughts. Clearly, this wasn't going to be easy for him. “I think I need to tell you how all this happened. How I got this guitar, how I came to RAF, all of it.” gh locked eyes with his visitor, then shifted his gaze to Leatherhead. “I'm just gonna tell it how it was. And I want you to come to your own conclusions. I guess I should start from the beginning. . . .”
-
First real chapter
Chapter 1: Project Bargo
The lights dimmed in a seedy club in New York. It was a Friday night, and those who lacked responsibilities outside of their weekday jobs (and as many would argue, also lacked good taste in music) decided to attend a show for a regional heavy metal band. The slightly intoxicated patrons had been waiting impatiently for some sort of action, despite the fact that it was a good ten minutes before the show was scheduled to start. The opening band finally stepped onstage; a group of four young adults, each holding their chosen instruments. The lead guitarist, a teenager of average build with shaggy, jet-black hair, stepped up to his microphone.
“Thank you,” he said, seeming to ignore the lack of applause. “We're Project Bargo, and we've got a few songs for you.” The tall, lanky rhythm guitarist rolled his eyes at the lack of his bandmate's lack of charisma before strumming a light, ambient introduction. After a moment, the drummer, who was a stocky, muscular beast of a man, began to play a crescendo fill, with the dreadlocked bassist joining in. Suddenly, the lead guitarist crashed in with a thunderous, powerful chord, with the rhythm section throbbing in the background. The two guitar players eventually locked into a harmonized riff, with the bassist and drummer providing a steady groove. Finally, the two guitarists stepped up to their respective microphones and screamed the song's verse:
This pool, uniting
Body of water constructed for you
Water inviting,
A barrier of ice you cannot break through.
Struggling, you're fighting,
A frozen grave that will bring life anew.
The bassist, who had been mostly sticking to the shadowed area of the stage up until this point, stepped up to his microphone and delivered the chorus with haunting, withering clean vocals:
Ash shrouds the sky in a hazy cloud,
Covers the Earth with its plague.
Sun cannot shine through a barrier of smog,
An industry-sponsored ice age.
Following the chorus, the bassist retreated to his dark corner of the stage, as the lead guitarist played a short but blistering solo passage, soon followed by an instrumental bridge, then one more repetition of the chorus before the song's end.
The crowd lightly applauded Project Bargo, still relatively unimpressed with the band. Although they definitely displayed competent musical ability, it was rather obvious already that this group's work was rather derivative, taking maybe a little too much influence from other bands. In spite of the lukewarm reaction, the rhythm guitarist exchanged a small grin with the other six-string wielder before launching into their next song. The band started to show some cracks in their foundation, this time, as the bassist was slowly but surely slipping off the beat.
“Oh, for Christ's sake,” the rhythm guitarist mumbled, reaching behind him to turn his amp up, hoping to drown out the floundering musician. The drummer, in turn, began to pummel his drums angrily, barely managing to stay on beat. Suddenly. . . .
POP! A loud sound came from the rhythm guitarist's amplifier, followed by complete silence from the piece of gear. Even over the noise of the rest of the band, the guitar player could be heard spouting every curse word in the book. “Are you kidding me!?” the lead guitarist shouted into his microphone.
As if on cue, the crowd started to turn on the band. Sounds of disappointed chatter and boos drowned out the three remaining audible band members, but they continued playing, unsure of what else they could do. The bassist and drummer slipped even further out of synchronization, and the remaining guitarist seemed to struggle to remember what to play. Out of nowhere, an empty beer bottle flew onto the stage, just missing the bassist's ear. The other members of the crowd took notice of this, and more of them began lobbing their empty containers of alcohol at the band. One managed to knock the lead guitarist right under his eye, which was the exact moment that he decided to abandon the show. He quickly unplugged his guitar and walked away, with the other band members following suit. The crowd gave their loudest applause of the night when Project Bargo left the stage.
Before anyone asks, no, those lyrics didn't come from any pre-existing song. I kinda just schlocked some generic-sounding metal lyrics. I was somewhat inspired by this (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2BiOITZHC8I&nohtml5=False) friggin' awesome Mastodon performance, though.
-
Wow. Nice beginning.
See? Having an outline helps a lot, doesn't it? ;)
And this takes place in Year 3? Because in Memoirs, currently, Leatherhead is six.
-
Oh, for some reason I thought it was seven. Lemme fix that.
-
This is a very interesting start. I can't figure where gh comes into all of this, which is great. Up for more! :D
-
Thanks, Saffa :D I thought I should keep it vague at first. I figured it was a little more interesting that way.
New chapter.
Chapter 2 – The Death of Bargo
Project Bargo decided not to stick around after their failed attempt at a show, opting instead to retreat to their “tour bus.” In all reality, their “tour bus” was just the lead guitarist's run-down, barely functioning minivan that they used to transport their gear and themselves.
“Well,” the rhythm guitarist, who was sharing the backseat with the bassist, started, “that went better than expected.”
“Are you kidding me?” the drummer replied with a derisive snort. “We barely got through one song.”
“Yeah, but usually we can't even manage that.”
The drummer smacked his arm down on the center console, turning around to face the guitarist. “Yeah, and I wonder why that is. Oh, wait, maybe it's because you blow your ****ing amp out every single show!”
“Well maybe I wouldn't have to crank my amp if TJ didn't turn up to every show stoned off his ass!”
The bassist who had his attention directed toward a Game Boy Advance this whole time, finally looked up. “Huh?”
“Shut up, TJ, you're not a part of this conversation,” the drummer said.
“Calvin, you're not any better,” the lead guitarist finally chimed in, having already started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Is it seriously too much to ask for you to keep a steady beat? Seriously, I could do better.”
“I'd like to see you try.”
The lead guitarist turned his attention away from the road for a minute, locking eyes with Calvin. “One, two, three, four. Oh, hey, I'm smarter than our goddamn drummer!”
“Yeah, look at smart-ass Dimitri over here. You wanna use some of those brains to remember your guitar parts for once?”
TJ, once again, looked up from his game system. “Guys, just chill for a minute.”
“Shut up, TJ,” everyone else in the car said in unison.
“That was weird,” Dimitri said, returning his focus to the road.
“Honestly, I'm not even sure why you're in this band,” the rhythm guitarist said after a brief, tense silence.
“Really, I don't know, either!” Calvin shouted. “You guys said you were a metal band. I thought you meant, like-”
“No, we are NOT like that band!”
“Why the hell not? Logan, name me one post-stoner-sludge-progressive-whatever band that's actually sold records.”
“Mastodon,” the rhythm guitarist said without hesitation.
“They were a fluke and you know it.”
“Baroness.”
“Torche,” Dimitri muttered, still focusing on the road.
“The Melvins,” TJ offered.
“Shut up, TJ!” Calvin yelled “Melvins don't count and you know it. Point is, we're never gonna make money doing this band if we don't change something.”
Suddenly, a the sound of softly-played violins came on the radio, playing an all-too familiar melody. Logan started to practically shake with anger when drums came in and voices started chanting a mantra about freedom.
“Oh, God. Dimitri, change the station. Now.”
“Dude, what do you have against Shinedown!?” Calvin asked, practically jumping into the backseat to choke Logan.
“I don't even hate Shinedown, but this song is god-awful,” Dimitri added, quickly changing the radio station.
“You know what? **** you guys!” Calvin said finally, just as the car pulled into his driveway. “Good luck finding a new drummer, because I'm done!” He quickly left the car, slamming the door behind him. The three remaining in the car sat in stunned silence for a few moments.
“. . . Holy ****,” the bassist said, still staring at his Game Boy.
“Yeah, that was kind of an overreaction,” Logan said, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle finger.
“No, I mean, holy ****, I found a shiny Pidgey!”
“NOBODY CARES, TJ!” Logan and Dimitri yelled in unison.
“Fine. I guess I'm out of the band, too.” TJ exited the car as well, albeit much less violently than Calvin did before him. “Good luck, I guess.”
Dimitri, frustrated, finally pulled out of Calvin's driveway. “He knows he lives like a half hour's drive away, right?” Logan said as they pulled onto the road.
“He'll figure it out.”
Yes, I do genuinely hate Shinedown that much, and that's pretty much my reaction whenever "Cut the Cord" comes on the radio.
-
Ah, there you are.
Now the obvious question is, did this actually happen? :P
-
Not in real life :P I've only been in one band before (which I actually played drums for), and we never played any shows aside from small parties in our guitarist's backyard. Plus, we never had anyone leave, aside from the original drummer, who I replaced.
-
And I happened to catch another shiny Zigzagoon as I read this. ;) (And I'm totally serious about that.)
-
NOBODY CARES, CLO- oh, sorry, I'm still in TJ mode. That's actually pretty hilarious :P
New chapter. Sorry if it seems like filler, but I promise this has a purpose.
Chapter 3: Of Blown Amps and Men
Dimitri began to head back toward his and Logan's neighborhood. They only lived a couple of houses away from each other, making things much easier to get to and from band practice. “You know, as much as I hate to admit it, Calvin sort of did have a point,” Dimitri said, rolling down his window and lighting a menthol cigarette.
Logan furrowed his brow a little bit. “What do you mean? And when the hell did you start smoking?”
“Like, a couple months ago. Right after we graduated, I think. But seriously, how many times have you busted that amp in the past few months?”
“Uh, three? Maybe four?” Logan looked back at the beat-up Marshall sitting in the car's limited trunk space. “I probably just blew the power tubes again. It's a cheap fix.”
“That's not the problem, though. It always goes out whenever we try to do a show.”
Logan sighed, taking in the sights of the suburban neighborhood outside the vehicle. “I don't think that's gonna be a problem now anyway, since we kinda just lost half our band.”
“So, what, just because Project Bargo failed, you don't want to try playing live again?”
“That's not what I'm saying. What can I even do about it, anyway? These things cost a lot of money, even used. Especially when you need enough volume to be heard in a club. We're talking five hundred, at least.”
“You could try selling that one.” Dimitri took a drag on his cigarette, only to cough immediately as the smoke hit his lungs. “You want one?”
“Yeah, I don't think so. And that thing's not gonna sell for much, especially with all the times it's had to get fixed. So unless you've ever seen a guitar that can amplify itself, I'm kind of stuck with that piece of crap.”
“I guess you're right,” Dimitri conceded. “It just sucks, you know? We kinda had a good thing going back there. If we'd gotten to play a few more songs, I think we could have won them over.”
“Yeah, if TJ wasn't too baked to function.” Logan snorted a halfhearted chuckle before looking over at his fellow guitarist. “You think we were too harsh on him?”
“Who, TJ? Dude, he'll be fine. I think he's physically incapable of taking anything seriously.”
“I dunno, D. He seemed a little hurt.”
Dimitri finally took his focus off the road to shoot Logan a mocking glance. “He left because of Pokemon. Even if he's actually pissed about that, he's still a complete idiot. Don't be such a bleeding heart.”
“Yeah, but you know, I think he's a pretty nice guy. And definitely a hell of a singer.”
“Whatever.” Obviously, Logan wasn't going to change Dimitri's mind on this, so he let the topic go. “And here we are,” Dimitri finally said, pulling into his own driveway. “You need help lugging that POS back to your place?”
“Yeah, if you don't mind,” Logan said, stepping out of the minivan. Really, Dimitri didn't end up helping with the amplifier, instead opting to carry Logan's guitar case. “You could, y'know, HELP a little!”
“I am! Now you don't have to lug your amp and your guitar!”
“I meant- OH, SWEET JESUS!” Logan cut himself off when he dropped the amp on his foot. The sound of breaking glass could be heard, signifying the rest of the amp's tubes being shattered. Logan practically threw the amp off of his foot before picking it back up to survey the damage. “Great. More money down the hole. Plus I think I need reconstructive surgery. Thanks for all the help, D.”
“Don't mention it,” Dimitri replied smugly, placing Logan's guitar down not-too-gently in front of his front door. “Call me if you need any more help.” Dimitri walked back toward his house, leaving Logan to haul his gear back inside.
-
“Whatever.” Obviously, gh wasn't going to change Dimitri's mind on this, so he let the topic go. “And here we are,” Dimitri finally said, pulling into his own driveway. “You need help lugging that POS back to your place?”
Think "gh" needs to be replaced with Logan there, y'know, for consistency.
-
Damn, I'm too used to never using my real name. Fixing now
-
Don't worry about it being 'filler' (which I don't think it is), some stories can't be BAM!-BAM!-BAM! and action all the time, some just need to go at their own pace.
-
True. Knowing me, I was probably worrying about nothing. :P
New chapter. I wasn't planning on writing one today, but sleep wasn't happening, so I figured I might as well write.
Chapter 4: Perfect Dork
The next few days were relatively quiet. Logan spent most of his time outside of his job sitting in an office chair playing video games, as was much of his life since graduating high school. Although he never mentioned it to anybody, the truth was that he craved something more than his quiet, sedentary lifestyle. This was a good chunk of the reason he had decided to start a band, but that particular road always seemed to lead back to the same place.
Still, this wasn't all bad. Logan definitely enjoyed the taste of freedom that came with his very few responsibilities, and living with his father made things that much easier. As well, he had a decent job for an eighteen-year-old, providing him with some disposable income. Then again, ever since starting Project Bargo, more and more of his money went toward repairing his amplifier.
Logan found himself so lost in these thoughts, along with an engaging session of Perfect Dark, that he almost didn't notice the light rapping of knuckles on his bedroom door. “Yeah?”
The door slowly opened, and the figure of Logan's dad stood in its frame. For a man of more than fifty years, he seemed to be doing fairly well for himself, although, his age was finally beginning to show in his graying beard and receding hairline. “Hey, buddy. How's your foot doing?”
“Eh, alright, I guess. Still a little sore. What's up?”
“Just wanted to let you know I'm turning in for the night.”
“Alright. I got tomorrow off, you feel like doing anything for dinner?”
Logan's dad appeared to wince a bit at this question. “Actually, I think you'll have to fend for yourself tomorrow. Jess and I were planning on meeting her friends for dinner.” Logan never exactly saw eye-to-eye with his stepmother, Jessica on most things, which led him to spend a good portion of his time in his bedroom.
“Oh, alright. I guess I might hang out with Dimitri or see if mom's busy or something.”
“There's an idea. You want me to grab anything for you while we're out?”
“Something to snack on would be nice. You know what I like.”
“Yeah. Anyway, I guess I'll let you get back to your game.”
“Alright. Love you, old man.”
Not long after his dad shut the door, Logan felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked the screen. Dimitri. Logan was somewhat hesitant to answer the phone, still a little angry over the other night. Nonetheless, he answered.
“'Sup?”
“Logan? Hey, it's not too late, is it?”
“Dude, it's only . . .” Logan paused to check the time on his computer. “It's only twelve-thirty. You know I don't sleep like a normal human.”
“Right. Look, I found something awesome today. Think you can stop by tomorrow?”
“Well, let's see. I got a busy schedule of sleeping all day, dicking around on the internet, punching old ladies in the throat, and global domination, but I think I can pencil you in.”
“Cool.”
“What did you find, anyway?”
A short silence followed this question before Dimitri answered. “Y'know, I think I'll let it be a surprise. I'll just see you tomorrow, alright?”
“Yeah, see you.” And with that, Logan hung up the phone and returned his focus to his game, only to realize that he had completely forgotten to pause. He checked the score to see the damage caused by his ignorance. Four kills and twenty-seven deaths. “Oh, you ****er. . . .”
-
Although he never mentioned it to anybody, the truth was that he craved something more than his quiet, sedentary lifestyle.
Reminded me of this (https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=TMgclhlpwb0).
Obvious foreshadowing of GH's joining RAF, methinks. ;)
-
Eh, maybe it was a little obvious, but we all knew it was gonna happen anyway :P
Probably gonna be a new chapter later tonight
-
Yeah, I got kinda distracted until now. Regardless, new chapter.
Chapter 5: An Axe to Avoid Grinding
The next day, the two guitar players met in Dimitri's garage, early in the afternoon (not long after Logan had woken up). Unlike his friend, Dimitri lived alone, having left his parents' house while still in high school.
“So, what exactly did you want to tell me?” Logan asked, growing impatient.
“Hold your ****in' horses, man. You remember a few days ago when we were talking about how you couldn't keep blowing your amp out at shows and stuff?”
Logan rolled his eyes, obviously not very interested in playing memory games. “No, I completely forgot about that. I also totally forgot about dropping the amp on my foot and screwing it up even more.” Even though he usually spoke in a bit of a monotone, the sarcasm was still palpable in Logan's voice.
“Whatever. You remember you said something about if they self-amplifying guitars, you'd buy one, right?”
“Yes, I remember saying that. You mind getting to the point sometime today?”
Dimitri's eyes seemed to glow with anticipation. “Dude, you're gonna flip. . . .” Dimitri briefly left the garage to grab something from his car – why he didn't park his car in the garage was somewhat of a mystery – and returned with two plain, black guitar cases.
This seemed to finally pique Logan's interest. “You didn't. . . .”
“I did.” Dimitri proceeded to open one of the cases, and inside lied a particularly gorgeous instrument. The guitar contained in the case superficially resembled Logan's own Telecaster, (http://www.fmicassets.com/demandware/assets/electric-guitars/telecaster/overview/0113200700_m1240_0000.jpg) right down to the body wood seeming to be alder and the neck looking like maple. In fact, the only real differences between this instrument and his own were in custom modifications that Logan had done to his guitar himself, plus the headstock didn't have any sort of logo on it. The lights in the garage shone off the guitar's gloss finish, and though Logan would have chalked this up to his own imagination, it seemed to reflect in the shape of a halo around the instrument.
“Oh my god,” the guitarist breathed, “that thing is gorgeous.” Cautiously, Logan picked the guitar up, and immediately felt a familiar warmth radiate throughout his body. The neck contoured to his hand perfectly, and as Logan ran his hand down the neck, he noticed the impeccable fret job. Clearly, whoever built the instrument was no slouch.
“Yeah, I couldn't get that one to work,” Dimitri said after giving Logan a chance to inspect the guitar. When his friend finally looked up, Dimitri was holding a guitar closely resembling a particular famous horned guitar (http://images.gibson.com.s3.amazonaws.com/Products/Electric-Guitars/2015/SG-Special/SGSP15FINH1_MAIN_HERO_01.jpg). “I thought maybe you could figure out what's wrong with it.”
“You got a pick?” Logan finally asked, still practically entranced by the guitar sitting in his lap. Dimitri tossed him a plectrum, and out of habit, Logan started playing a couple of simple blues licks. At first, it seemed for all intents and purposes to be a regular, unamplified guitar. As Logan played on, though, the instrument started to project its sound more and more. Eventually, it began to sound exactly how Logan had imagined what the instrument would sound like running through an amplifier – treble-heavy, with a slight amount of crunch to the sound. “Holy ****. . . .”
“Hm, seems like you got it working alright.” Dimitri, in return, played a hard rock riff on his guitar, and Logan, recognizing the riff, joined in. Again, his instrument seemed to mold the sound that it was projecting to be appropriate for the tune being played.
“How the hell does it do that?” Logan asked, completely dumbfounded.
Dimitri shrugged. “I dunno. Probably has something to do with the wood? Maybe some hidden electronics, or-”
“No, I mean, how does it change the way it sounds? You heard this thing, it went from sounding like an old blues amp to sounding like a Tool album.”
“I got no idea, man.” Dimitri placed his guitar back in the case, making sure to lock it. “I got these things for four hundred apiece. You wanna keep it?”
“Four hundred!?” Logan asked, astounded by the figure. “How'd you manage to get them that cheap!?”
“Yeah, I sort of know a guy who knows a guy. You got the cash, man? If not, I'll be happy to take care of that thing for you. . . .”
“Get in the car,” Logan commanded. “We're going to the bank.”
-
Is this when the symphokinesis comes into play? Too early?
-
It'll be explained in due time
-
Too early to ask. Gotcha.
-
New, long-ish chapter. The second half wasn't originally in my outline, but I thought I might need something that would potentially be funny.
Chapter 6: Karate
“Alright, so it goes, C, then D-sharp, then G-sharp and B?”
“Yeah. Strumming pattern is a little weird, but it's not too hard.”
It was a few days after Logan and Dimitri had gotten their guitars. The two were, again, in Dimitri's garage, showing each other various riffs and scales with their new instruments. Since receiving their guitars, Dimitri and Logan spent the vast majority of their time playing them, and understandably so, as the guitars seemed to almost be custom-tailored for their owners' respective playing styles.
“You know,” Logan said, “I think we should maybe try the whole band thing again. These guitars would make it go a lot smoother than last time.”
Dimitri nodded in approval. “I was thinking the same thing, man. We should probably change our band name, though.”
“How come?”
“'Cause Project Bargo already has a bit of a reputation. I mean, people know we were never able to even finish a show, so they probably wouldn't be too excited to go see a band that sucked so much.”
“True.” Logan thoughtfully rolled his guitar pick in his hand for a moment. “I can't think of anything right now, man. I'm kind of . . . bagel-brained at the moment.”
Dimitri raised an eyebrow at Logan's strange word choice. “'Bagel-brained?' That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth. I kind of like it.”
This time, it was Logan's turn to raise an eyebrow. “Seriously? You're suggesting we call ourselves 'Bagel-Brain?'”
“Why not? It's a catchy name.”
“I guess. We kind of need a bassist and drummer, though.”
Dimitri sighed, taking off his guitar and resting it against the wall. “True. We're not going with Calvin again. That guy was a grade-a prick.”
“Yeah, seriously. You think I should give TJ a poke?”
“Are you kidding me?”
Logan sat back in the wooden chair that they had brought out to the garage and hung his arm over the back. “Why not? Look, the dude can sing, I don't care what you say. And he already knows all our songs. Just as long as we don't let him light up, we're good.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
The two bickered for a few minutes, until Logan was holding his phone to his ear, trying to ignore Dimitri silently rubbing his forehead. After a few rings, TJ's voice came through the phone's speaker. “Hello?”
“Hey, TJ, it's Logan.”
“Hey.”
Logan sighed. Obviously, this wasn't going to be easy for him. “Look man, I'm just going to be honest with you here. I was a douchebag. We all were. I honestly don't even know what we were thinking, but I really regret being such an ****. The thing is, me and D wanted to maybe get the band back together. And, well, you're honestly the best bass player we know.”
There was a short pause, as TJ seemed to mull over what he'd just heard. “Dude,” he finally said, “I appreciate the apology. I really do. But it's gonna take a lot more than just that to get me back in the band.”
“Alright. I didn't want to do this, but you forced my hand.” Dimitri was silently mouthing “no,” at Logan, but the latter continued. “I found a shiny Nosepass yesterday. Thing is, I really want a Gligar on my team. You wanna hook me up?”
Again, another short pause. “Hold on, I'm gonna catch the bus. I'll be there as soon as I can."
* * *
Daytime. Dimitri and Logan stood on opposite sides of their street, staring each other down. Logan honestly couldn't believe what he saw. Dimitri holding his own guitar . . . and Logan's. Logan crossed the street, never breaking eye contact with his supposed friend. “Hi, Dimitri,” he said, venom spewing forth with every word. “How's the guitar playing coming along?”
“I swear, it's not what it looks like.” Logan wasn't about to believe that, though. Dimitri set the two instruments down on the sidewalk, as Logan started to break into song:
With karate, I'll kick your ass,
From here to Tienanmen Square.
Oh yeah, mother****er,
I'm gonna kick your ****in' derriere, yeah.
You broke the rules,
Now I'll pull out all your pubic hair!
You mother****er. . . .
Logan jumped toward Dimitri in a gravity-defying flying kick. His foot connected directly with Dimitri's face, sending his head flying into a garbage can. Dimitri stumbled around for a moment before retrieving his head from the trash receptacle and replacing it upon his shoulders. He then proceeded to elbow Logan in the ribs, sending him careening backwards.
“Magic flying fast food sack!” Dimitri said, pulling an empty paper bag out of the garbage can. After inflating it with his breath, Dimitri hit the bottom of the paper bag, sending him into the air to land just behind Logan. He failed to capitalize on this advantage, however, as Logan reached into his pocket, only to pull his hand out after mere seconds.
“Magic spinning loose change!” Logan threw the coins at Dimitri, which became lodged into Dimitri's shirt, pinning him to a telephone pole. This only served as a small hindrance, because when Dimitri tried to move forward, the shirt simply ripped off, revealing a garment identical to his now destroyed shirt underneath.
Suddenly, Logan noticed something. A man in a ski mask, holding a gun against his beloved guitar. “Don't you dare touch her!” he screamed. The masked man turned the gun on Logan, and it was at this moment that everything seemed to slow down. He pulled the trigger, but at that exact moment, Dimitri dove in front of Logan, taking the bullet for him. After realizing that he was, in fact, not dead, Logan raucously laughed at the shooter. Upon noticing Dimitri laying motionless on the pavement, this laughter quickly turned to sounds of mourning.
“Oh, no! Dimitri, NO! WHY!?” This last word rang in the air. As the sound reverberated, it seemed to be mixed with the blaring of an alarm clock. Slowly, Logan realized, it was an alarm clock!
Logan suddenly sat up in his bed, shaking off his sleep. “What the hell,” he mumbled to himself, reflecting on his odd dream.
Source for that second half. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zUuylPvvTPo) Sorry, I know it was almost a direct rehash of the skit, but goddamn, that skit was funny as hell. . . .
-
. . . I actually have both those shinies.
-
Cautiously, Logan picked the guitar up, and immediately felt a familiar warmth radiate throughout his body. The neck contoured to his hand perfectly, and as Logan ran his hand down the neck, he noticed the impeccable fret job. Clearly, whoever built the instrument was no slouch.
This reminded me of that wand shop scene in the first Harry Potter. The guitar chooses the guitarist, Logan... ;)
-
The guitar chooses the guitarist, Logan... ;)
:o Hmmmmmm . . .
-
I'm holding my tongue right now ;)
Probably gonna be a new chapter later tonight.
:edit: New chapter
Chapter 7: Welcome to the Show
A couple of weeks passed before anybody had heard of the band formerly known as Project Bargo. The band had taken their time refreshing their material, and introducing the setlist to their new drummer, an amateur mechanic named Maynard. Eventually, the time came for Bagel-Brain to play a show.
They had already managed to book an opening slot at a local bar, which Logan was sure they could get into only because Maynard was a regular. The headlining act wasn't particularly large and was doing an ill-promoted tour of the northeastern part of the country, so the bar wasn't particularly busy. Still, the band saw this as being all for the better, since if they did play a bad show, there weren't many people to embarrass themselves in front of.
Bagel-Brain took the stage right on schedule. Dimitri and Logan still kept their amplifiers behind them, mostly for set dressing. If everything went as planned, though, they wouldn't need them. Prior to the show, Logan had spent the whole day essentially babysitting TJ, just to make sure he wouldn't manage to do anything to ruin the performance.
The band quickly tuned their instruments before Dimitri started playing an intricate chord progression. As expected, his guitar's sound managed to be plenty loud enough for the venue. After a few repetitions of his chord pattern, Dimitri flashed a smile at Logan as the rest of the band came in, playing off of the same chord pattern. Dimitri stepped up to his microphone and started to sing:
Through the ages,
All the weary and the blind,
Facing the unknown.
Of the venom,
Center our lives.
Knowing not your own is unwise.
And I will return for more,
The light will lead you ashore.
Paralyzed by . . .
Paralyzed by thorn inside.
Immediately after Dimitri finished singing his verse, Logan stepped up to his microphone and began singing:
To the angel,
Breathing on me from the right,
A guilt you'll never know.
From the devil,
Staring from the left-hand side,
Souls to animal.
Recede your eyes,
Sulk in disgust.
When there is doubt, look to the obvious.
And I'll decide what you will pay,
Changing your mind seals our fate.
The more astute members of the audience recognized these lyrics from a Mastodon song. Indeed, Bagel-Brain were performing a cover, but each band member brought something different to the song – Dimitri's soft, almost ambient guitar phrases, Logan's naturally aggressive playing style, Maynard's frantic drumming, and TJ's haunting voice on the chorus of the song:
Open your eyes,
Take a deep breath and return to life.
Wake up and fight,
Fight for the love and the burning light!
The song meandered toward a short instrumental passage before returning back to the chorus. Following this, Dimitri played a short solo, and the song ended shortly afterward. The audience applauded politely; those that knew that the song was a cover seemed to appreciate the rendition, and those that weren't aware enjoyed the band's stage presence. “How's everybody doing tonight?” Dimitri said into his microphone. The vest majority of the crowd responded with applause, with a few cheers here and there. “Good, now shut up! We're Bagel-Brain, and we got some more tunes for you.”
* * *
The rest of Bagel-Brain's fifteen-minute set went relatively well. After their opening song, they stuck to playing their own original tunes, which quite a few members of the audience appeared to enjoy. TJ and Maynard manned the merchandise booth (which was shared by all of the bands performing that night) while the second opening act played, and Dimitri slipped outside for a cigarette with Logan keeping him company. The two sat on top of their guitar cases, taking care to not leave their instruments unattended.
“You know,” Dimitri said, blowing out a lungful of smoke, “I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think that went really well.”
“Damn right, it did,” Logan commented. “Those guys were really getting into it. If only we had a bit more time to play, I think we would have really won them over.”
“Eh, whatever. I have a pretty good feeling that we made at least a couple fans tonight.”
The two guitarists conversed for a few minutes, going over all of what went well and what didn't during the show. Eventually, Dimitri had had enough of the less-than-ideal New York weather. “Well, I think I'd better get back inside,” he said, standing up. “You coming?”
“Yeah, just gimme a second.” Logan stretched his legs one last time, making sure he didn't accidentally tip his case over. The two of them started for the door, completely unaware of the shadowed figure approaching them. . . .
Source song. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FuMjmQMZu5A) I really didn't want to use a real song by a real band, but screw it, I love this song way too much. And I actually can play the rhythm guitar part in real life, so I guess that's pretty cool.
-
New chapter. Sorry it's been a couple days, but I've been busy with work and just generally tired. At least it's not the as bad as the delays in Diary. ;)
Chapter 8: Brynna
The shadowed figure approached the guitarists as they were about to re-enter the building. A hand reached out and grabbed Dimitri on the shoulder, causing him to jump approximately a yard into the air. “Hey. . . .”
Dimitri spun around, only for his expression to soften when he saw the face in front of him. “Brynna?” he said, addressing the young woman in front of him with shoulder-length brown hair and a lip piercing, dressed in a black hoodie.
“Hey, D!” the girl cheerfully said, wrapping Dimitri in a short hug. “You guys killed it in there.”
“Thanks,” Dimitri said, scratching at his chin. He looked back at Logan, who was already halfway inside the building. “Hey Logan, stick around for a few? This is my friend, Brynna.”
“Sup,” Logan mumbled halfheartedly, stepping back outside.
“Nice to meet you, Logan,” Brynna said before turning her attention back to Dimitri. “How's the guitar working for you?”
“Yeah, this thing is great!”
“I'm guessing you sold him the guitars,” Logan said.
Brynna raised an eyebrow at this. “Sold? I gave them to him.” This prompted Logan to glare at Dimitri.
“Uh, anyway . . .” Dimitri was trying to avoid Logan's stare. “These things are great. We didn't even have to use our amps or anything.”
“That's awesome!” Brynna chirped, grinning from ear to ear.
It was then that Logan chimed in. “Actually, I was kind of wondering, Brynna, where'd you get these things?”
“I made them, actually.”
“Brynna's really good with her hands,” Dimitri said. Logan wasn't exactly sure if his friend had even intended the innuendo, but he decided to let it go.
“In that case,” Logan started, “how exactly do they amplify themselves? I took a look at the electronics, but they looked pretty normal.” Dimitri rolled his eyes; Logan was starting to go into “nerd mode,” as they liked to call it.
“Well . . .” Brynna seemed a little hesitant to answer the question. “It wasn't really all that complex. Honestly, I'm not sure if you're gonna believe me here, but I sort of enchanted them-”
“Hold up,” Logan said, cutting Brynna off. “So, you're telling me that you're a witch . . .”
“I prefer the word 'sorceress,' actually.”
“Sorry. But you're telling me that you're a sorceress and these guitars are, well, magic?” Logan seemed to have a bit of trouble saying that last word, almost as if he couldn't even believe he was saying it.
“It's a little more complex than that, but yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it.”
“Well, you were definitely right about one thing, and it's that I'm having a little trouble believing that.” Logan stole a glance at Dimitri, who looked just as skeptical. “I mean, I'm not completely closed off to the idea of magic, but I've never really seen it in action. You know what I'm saying?”
Brynna shrugged, seemingly unaffected by Logan's almost immediate rejection of her claims. “Hey, I really can't knock you for that. A lot of people don't believe me when it comes to stuff like that. But really, do you have any other explanation?”
“You got me there.”
“Look,” Dimitri said, “I don't really believe in all that magic stuff. But as long as these things work the way they do, I don't care if little pixies are living inside of them. They're awesome, is what I'm saying.”
Brynna nodded. “Hey, I'm not trying to change your mind. I'm just glad you like them.” She turned to walk away, only to turn back around once more. “Oh, by the way. Just be careful with those things. Don't let your feelings get the better of you, alright?”
“No problem at all,” Logan said. He liked to think that he was rather stoic, although Dimitri would definitely argue with him on this. No matter. Brynna walked away once more, and the two boys walked back inside the venue. “I want my four hundred back,” Logan said once he was sure Brynna wouldn't hear.
“No chance.”
-
Huh. I'm not trying to dictate how you tell your story, but, in Memoirs, your symphokinesis comes from yourself . . .
Of course, I could be misreading this.
-
Again, I'll address that later on.
-
I surmised, after a while.
-
Everyone's a skeptic.
-
New chapter. This is where the book gets a little . . . dark. Fasten your seatbelts, because there's no turning back now, kiddies.
Chapter 9: I Don't Need No Arms Around Me . . .
Shows like this continued for a few months. Bagel-Brain managed to amass a small fan base in the local scene, despite going through a few different drummers. Still, the core lineup of Dimitri, TJ, and Logan drew people in with their unique styles.
Bagel-Brain sat backstage preparing for a show, running over the setlist one last time to make sure their current drummer, Josh, was up to speed. This was the first time the band were going to headline a show, and even though the venue was rather small, it was still a big deal for the band.
“Alright,” Josh said, twirling a drumstick in his right hand. “I think I got this down.”
“Awesome.” Dimitri turned to Logan, who was lost in his own little world, tuning his guitar. “Got this?”
“Huh? Yeah, I got this. I'd damn well better, we've been rehearsing so much.”
Josh and the two guitarists bantered for a while, trying to shake off their pre-show nerves. TJ, meanwhile, sat in a a corner with his bass hung around his neck, perfectly still aside from an occasional muscle twitch. It wasn't until Logan said something that the rest of the band noticed.
“TJ? You feeling alright?”
No response.
“Come on, man, snap out of it. We're on in ten.” Still nothing. Logan walked over toward the unresponsive bassist, and only then did he notice that TJ's pupils were only as large as the point of a needle. “D?” Logan said, his voice shaky. “Come over here. I think there's something wrong with TJ.”
In a heartbeat, Dimitri was kneeling down beside TJ. “Wake up, man,” he said. Nothing. Panicking, he gave TJ a light slap across his cheek. “TJ, you there, bro?”
Finally, TJ seemed to break out of his comatose state. “Can you turn the teev deevadee?” he slurred, his eyes beginning to close.
“'Can I turn the teev deevadee!?'” Logan said, a mix of confusion and fear in his voice. “What the hell does that even mean!?”
Dimitri, meanwhile, was shaking the bassist's shoulder. “TJ. Stay with me, man. Just tell me: what did you take?”
This seemed to get through to him. “Speedball,” TJ mumbled, before his eyes shut.
“Speedball? What the hell is speedball!?” Logan yelled. Contrasting Logan's utter frustration, Dimitri's face was completely white.
“Logan. Call an ambulance. Now.”
* * *
Logan and Dimitri sat in the hospital waiting room, unsure of how their friend was faring. Dimitri in particular seemed to be jarred, as he rested his forehead on his interlaced fingers, and his breathing was unsteady. Logan decided to leave him alone, as he was dealing with own stress and fears, albeit in a more subdued way. After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor stepped into the waiting room. “Dimitri? Logan?”
Dimitri jerked his head up to look at the doctor. “Is TJ alright?” he nearly yelled.
“Calm down,” Logan muttered, just loud enough for the two of them to hear. If the doctor did notice, he obviously chose not to show it.
“He's stable. And to tell you the truth, he's very lucky he's even still alive. There was a fatal amount of morphine in his system, along with a substantial dose of cocaine. We gave him a shot of Naloxone, which counteracted the effects of the morphine. If you didn't call when you did, your friend most likely would not have survived.”
Dimitri rubbed his face, and it was then that Logan noticed just how much his fellow guitarist was sweating. “Oh my god. . . .”
Logan, the substantially more composed of the two, took the reigns of the conversation. “Frankly, I'm just relieved he's alright. I'm guessing he's not gonna be released tonight?”
The doctor shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. He still hasn't woken up yet, and when he does, we might need to send him to a rehabilitation program.”
“Alright,” Logan said, standing up to shake the doctor's hand. “I guess there's no point in us staying here all night, then. Thanks for filling us in.” Logan nodded at Dimitri. “Let's go, man.”
The two drove home in near silence. Logan wasn't sure quite why Dimitri was as shaken as he was. Granted, they had witnessed their friend overdose, but they knew he was going to be okay. Maybe . . . maybe Logan was just desensitized?
He pushed these thoughts to the side when Dimitri pulled into his driveway. As the two exited the car, Logan looked down their street. It was no different from how it normally looked at two in the morning, but this time, the atmosphere seemed just a bit thicker than normal. It must have just been Logan's mind playing tricks on him, he concluded.
“I'll talk to you tomorrow, D,” Logan said, giving Dimitri a small pat on the back. “Try to get some sleep tonight.”
-
Based on real life events?
-
Nope, just my messed up imagination
-
Ah, I guess your writing is a bit more real than mine. As in more realistic, while mine tends to be more esoteric, I guess.
Not a criticism, just an acknowledgement.
-
That's sort of what I was going for, so thanks :D
Although, I'll admit that I extensively used Wikipedia for that chapter.
-
Eh, I've extensively used Wikipedia, various specialized wikis, Wiktionary, etc. It's no biggie.
-
New, short-ish chapter. I'll try to get another one written up later, but no promises.
Chapter 10: Call Me Any, Anytime
It wasn't until a couple of days later that Logan had heard from TJ. Logan didn't think all that much about the incident before the Bagel-Brain show. Granted, Logan had never been close friends with TJ – at least, not as much as Dimitri was. Nonetheless, the scene of TJ's overdose was still fresh in Logan's mind when he received a phone call.
“Hello?”
“Hey man, it's me,” the bassist's voice said through the speaker.
“Hey. How you holding up?”
“Alright, I guess.” TJ's voice seemed much more lucid than normal. “Look, I'm sorry about ruining the show. I just-”
“I don't care about the show. What I want to know about is why the **** you thought it would be a good idea to take morphine and cocaine.”
“It's . . .” TJ sighed into the phone. “It's been a problem.”
“No ****!” Logan gave himself a few seconds to calm down. “Dude, I thought you were just into weed.”
“Well, sort of. Yeah, I am, but it's just sort of a cover-up. Like, if I'm high, I could just say I had some really strong grass or something, and people buy it.”
“Why didn't you try to get help?”
TJ let out a small groan. “It's not that easy. People judge you if you take narcs. You really think it's that easy to just come out with that ****? It's like if you came out as gay in the Bible belt or whatever, y'know?”
“I would have stuck with you, man. I'm not that much of an ****.”
“Whatever. Either way, I'm going to rehab as it is. I just wanted to let you know that I won't really be able to do anything with the band until I'm done. And even then, I might just be done for good. I dunno, but my number one priority right now is getting clean.”
“Alright. You gonna keep in contact?”
“I dunno. Depends on whether I'm allowed to call friends or anything. I don't know how this rehab stuff works.” TJ moved to hang up the phone, before pulling it back to his ear. “Oh, Logan?”
“What's up?”
“Make sure D takes care of himself. I know you-”
“TJ?”
“Yeah?”
Logan let a smile creep across his face. “Shut the hell up.”
-
New chappie
Chapter 11: Sickman
After the phone call, Logan went over to tell Dimitri the news. Overall, what TJ told him wasn't very surprising; Logan had suspected that he would be sent to rehab, and it would only make sense that he would leave the band because of it. Finding a new bassist was going to be a challenge, for sure. The only thing that kept nagging at Logan after the phone call was the initial incident. The more time had passed, the more it bothered him. It was baffling as to how a friend could foster an opium addiction and keep it hidden for so long. Logan wasn't quite sure how long TJ was doing hard drugs, but it must have been quite a while, considering most first-time users wouldn't combine drugs so recklessly.
Logan pushed these thoughts aside when he walked into Dimitri's house. Logan's friend seemed glad enough to see him, but something was . . . off. Dimitri appeared much more disheveled than usual, almost as if he hadn't left the house for days. “Sup,” he said meekly, muting his television.
“Not much,” Logan said as he took a seat in the recliner on the opposite side of the room from Dimitri. “Just got a call from TJ.”
Immediately, Dimitri perked up. “Really? How's he doing?”
“I guess as good as he can be. He said he's going to rehab, so I'm not sure how much we're going to see of him.”
This made Dimitri seem to settle back into his prior funk. “Oh.”
“Yeah, it kinda sucks. But I guess that's good for him, when you think about it.”
“I guess.”
“You alright?” Logan asked, sitting forward in his armchair. “You've been acting kind of weird ever since . . . well, you know.”
Dimitri laid his head in his hand, as if it were a massive burden on his shoulders. “Look. I really haven't been straight up with you this whole time. And I know, you'll be pissed at me when I tell you this.”
“Dude, I'm not gonna get mad. Just tell me what's up.”
Dimitri shut his eyes tight and took a deep breath. When he spoke, his voice shook, along with his entire body. “It's my fault, man. If I didn't get TJ into that ****, he wouldn't have OD'd.”
True to his word, Logan refrained from an outburst. To the contrary, he crossed the room and sat next to his friend. “That's why you were so shook up, I'm guessing?” Still trying to hold back tears, Dimitri nodded in silence. “Since when?”
“A couple months ago. Right after we graduated, I think.” Logan nodded, seeming to recognize these words from somewhere. “I haven't done that **** since TJ went to the hospital, man. Honest.”
“I believe you, D.”
“You don't know how ****ing hard it is.” Dimitri looked right at Logan, his eyes a gateway into a complete void. “Don't ever get into that ****, man.”
“Trust me, I wasn't planning on it.” Logan gave a reassuring nod. “What all have you been doing?”
“Oxy. Morphine. Sometimes methadone. Whatever I can get my hands on.”
“In that case, this is gonna be a rough couple of weeks for you.” This prompted an inquisitive look from Dimitri. “I'm gonna stay with you for a while. I want to make sure you stay off that ****, and help you get through the withdrawal. Give me five minutes to let my dad know, and I'll be right back.”
“You sure you want to do this?”
Logan stood up off the couch, his normally small frame now towering over Dimitri. “D, now that TJ's gone for a while, I'm the only friend you've got. You can't keep getting high, or you'll end up overdosing, just like he did. You don't want that, and I certainly don't want that. I'm gonna help you get clean, even if it kills me.”
Dimitri nodded, still practically glued to the couch. “Thanks. I owe you big.”
“Yeah, you do owe me. Four hundred bucks, to be exact.”
“God damn it.”
-
This thread is getting lonely. New chapter.
Chapter 12: Gerow's
The next couple weeks proved to be a challenge, both for Logan and Dimitri. Granted, Logan was incredibly lucky to catch the addiction in its early stages, but detoxification is never an easy process. Especially during the latter week, Dimitri was going through a noticeable amount of difficulty, going through many common withdrawal symptoms, which he'd likely rather not go into the details of.
Still, it seemed that everybody was willing to accommodate for Logan's time. His employer understood the situation and was willing to give him as much time off as necessary. His father reacted much the same way, although Logan remembered what TJ had told him about stigma and didn't divulge exactly why he was going to be away from home.
After a couple of weeks, though, Dimitri's withdrawal symptoms began to subside, and Logan reluctantly allowed him to leave the house to search for a new job. Dimitri wasn't having any luck much the job hunt, but he managed to stay out of trouble, which at the time, was all that mattered to Logan. That is, until he got a phone call while Dimitri was out. . . .
“Hey, D. What's up?”
“Logan? I'm in some deep ****, man.”
A small pause followed, during which Logan considered all the possibilities. “What did you do?”
“I screwed up. Pissed the wrong people off.”
“Dimitri. What happened?” Logan was finding it increasingly difficult to keep his cool, which was only made worse by Dimitri's reluctance to explain what happened.
“Just meet up with me.”
“Where even are you?”
“You know where Gerow's is?” Dimitri was referring to a small, local convenience store.
“Which Gerow's? There's a bunch of Gerows'!”
“The abandoned one on the edge of town. You know which Gerow's!”
“Well, now I do!”
“Quit being a little **** and get over here!” Dimitri yelled through the handset. “One more thing. Bring your guitar.”
“Why the hell do I have to bring my guitar?”
“Dude, you don't realize just how loud these things can get. Like, blow-the-roof-off-Gerow's loud.”
“Alright, fine! I'll be there in a bit.”
* * *
The abandoned convenience store was approximately a forty-five minute walk away from the guitarists' neighborhood. On the walk there, Logan had almost no choice but to consider all the things Dimitri could have done. No matter how hard he tried to ignore these possibilities, it was very difficult to push them out of his mind. Compounding his apprehension was the cold weather, which didn't make the walk any more bearable. And the significant heft of his guitar . . .
These complaints were put on hold when Logan approached the abandoned Gerow's. To his surprise, the doorway had absolutely nothing shielding the interior from the barely-above-freezing weather. Whether or not the door was missing to begin with, Logan couldn't tell. Cautiously, Logan entered the building.
“D?” Logan yelled, a little unsure of himself. “You here, man?”
“Sup.”
Logan screamed and turned around, almost smacking Dimitri in the face with his guitar's headstock. Clearly, the borderline condemned state of the building put him on edge.
“Dude, chill!”
“Sorry.” Logan took a quick look around to make sure nobody else was in the Gerow's. “So, you wanna tell me why you're hanging out in the abandoned Gerow's?”
Dimitri's eyes shifted away from Logan, instead staring at the floor. “There's really no easy way for me to tell you this, but . . . I kinda had a relapse.” Logan shook his head and sat down on the floor, noticing Dimitri's own guitar not too far away. “Are you pissed?”
“D, I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed.”
“Gee, thanks, dad.”
Logan shot Dimitri an exasperated look. “That still doesn't tell me why we're in Gerow's.”
“It was just sort of a deal gone wrong. I ran, and this is the first place I found to hide.”
“And why'd you bring your guitar?”
“Well . . . I was gonna pawn it. For money.”
This prompted another dirty look from Logan. “Seriously? You'd get rid of that thing for drugs?”
“Well, I obviously didn't!” Dimitri said defensively, as if he thought that would make it any better.
“Whatever. Are you on anything right now.”
“No.”
“Good. I guess we'll just wait it out in here. Then we're going back home.”
Yeah, the whole Gerow's thing was based on a call that a friend of mine got once.
-
It just reminds me of the X-Man Remy LeBeau, alias "Gambit", for some reason.
-
Well. . . . ;)
Chapter 13: In a Jam
“So, that's a Greek scale?”
“Yeah, those foreign scales are pretty cool. Check out this Japanese one. . . .”
After coming to terms with how the past two weeks had almost been all for naught, Logan started trading riffs and techniques with Dimitri. Although he played lead in Bagel-Brain, it was surprising how little Dimitri could do on the instrument compared to Logan. Then again, Logan's aggressive, angry playing style lent itself better to rhythm lines.
“Kinda like old times, huh?” Logan mused after running through a scale pattern. “Back in high school, y'know?”
“How exactly is that 'old times?' That was only, what, half a year ago?”
“Yeah, but a lot has changed since then. And I'm not just talking about the whole drugs thing. My dad got remarried, I got a job, other stuff. . . .”
Dimitri raised an open hand, effectively cutting Logan off. “I get it, man. We did have a lot of fun back then.”
“Yeah.”
The two stopped talking for a while and resumed their impromptu jam session. It was times like this that reminded them exactly why they formed a band together. As most musicians would attest, nonverbal communication is a massive part of playing music with others, and Logan and Dimitri seemed to have this down to a science.
“By the way,” Dimitri said, still softly playing a simple chord progression, “have you even picked up your old guitar at all since getting that thing?”
“What, the Tele? Now that I think about it, I really haven't. I dunno, I'm kinda attached to Big Daddy Dan Dude.”
“Big Daddy Dan Dude?”
“Yeah, that's what I named it. You know I'm, like, physically incapable of making a serious name. What about you? You been playing your old guitar?”
Dimitri shook his head. “Nah, I sold it.”
“Shame. It was a nice one.”
With that, Logan sat back and let Dimitri take over. He still lightly picked a rhythm line, while Dimitri played a slow, mournful lead section. Suddenly, the events of the past few weeks hit Logan. All the fear, all the regret, and all the self-loathing that Dimitri felt were now being felt by his friend, almost as if he was inducing these emotions through his playing. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
This soon transitioned into a softer, more dreamy melody. Logan nearly forgot what he was thinking just seconds before as he became lost in Dimitri's solo. Despite his willful ignorance of most facets of musical theory, Dimitri was a stellar lead guitarist, if only for his emotional playing style, and it was just now that Logan began to realize this. Of course, this was mixed with hundreds of other thoughts, as Logan was beginning to drift into a dreamlike, almost intoxicated state. Logan's eyes grew heavy and his playing softened even more, gradually, until it was completely inaudible.
Dimitri stood up, still playing his guitar, and stepped toward Logan. Slowly, so as not to disturb Logan's slumber, Dimitri reached his right hand out, still manipulating the strings with his left. Closer, closer, until his fingers were inches away from Logan's guitar. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. “Don't you dare touch it. . . .”
-
... What the hell just happened.
THE SORCERY!
Also, the chapters on the OD episode, damn. Seen too much of that **** around here, so it hit pretty close to home.
-
Yeah, I wanted to write it as realistically as possible to give the subject its due respect. My best friend's mom ****ed her life up with crack (and yes, I know that'd different from opiates), so even though I haven't personally seen it myself, I think it's important to at least have an inkling of how it is to go through that ****.
-
New chapter. I know it's been a few days and this one is a little on the short side, but I've been really busy with work lately. Hopefully, things are gonna slow down a bit so I can put out chapters more than once every few days.
Chapter 14: Buildup
Dimitri stepped back, dumbfounded, as Logan stared icily at him. “D, I'm only going to ask you this once. What do you think you are doing?”
Dimitri stammered, completely unable to conjure a response.
“I think I can take a guess,” Logan said, filling in for Dimitri's stunned speechlessness. “I'm guessing the whole 'deal gone wrong' thing was a lie, wasn't it?” Again, no response from Dimitri. “And you were going to try to steal my guitar to pawn off for smack or something, right?” Dimitri still said nothing, but slowly backed away from Logan, who began to stand up, strapping on his guitar. Hanging his hand over the neck of his instrument, almost as if he was protecting it, Logan gave Dimitri a frozen, angered stare. “What the hell were you thinking, man?”
“You . . . you just don't get it,” Dimitri said, finally breaking his silence. “You don't know what it's like to be addicted to something that's gonna kill you one day. I dare you, I DARE YOU to try living in my shoes for a week. Jesus, if you just smoked for a month, you wouldn't be able to turn back!”
“And that makes it right to steal my guitar!?” Logan's voice gradually ramped up as he resumed his tirade. “First off, you make me pay for the thing when you weren't charged a cent for it. I could have hounded you for that a lot more than I did, you know, but I knew you were going through some ****. Then I put my entire life on hold for weeks just to help you get clean. And then you still decide that you should screw me over!? What were you planning to do with me after taking my guitar, I'm curious?”
“I don't know!”
“Damn right, you don't know!” Logan screamed. “Obviously, you haven't thought any of this though!” He took a deep breath to calm himself down, but it only worked to a small degree. In all reality, Logan was more mad at himself than Dimitri. Angry that he didn't notice that his so-called friend was a lost cause. “I can't believe I agreed to help you. Jesus, I ****ing dated you!”
“You're seriously stuck on that?” Dimitri yelled, matching Logan's level of anger. “That was almost a year ago! It was an experiment. One that I didn't like.” Dimitri lowered his voice to a dangerous level. “At least I own that I'm messed up. Do you even know what you are? Some self-righteous, wannabe superstar, sanctimonious ****.”
“What the **** did you just call me!?” Logan made a move toward Dimitri, the latter back-stepping to avoid his advance. “You think you have any high ground to say that when you were dating me – a guy, if you never noticed – not even a year ago?”
“I grew out of it! You're still living in high school, for god's sake.” Dimitri stepped back toward Logan. Clearly, he wasn't interested in just taking Logan's guitar anymore, and Logan seemed to have no intention of diffusing the situation calmly. “Still as big of a pussy as you were back then?” Dimitri pulled back his fist, and before either of them knew what happened, it connected with Logan's jaw, sending him sprawling to the wall, guitar still hanging from his neck. “You even gonna do anything?”
Driven by instinct, Logan did the one thing he knew how to do best. He curled his hand around the neck of his guitar, and in a fluid motion, strummed an open chord. The walls of the empty store shook, chunks of loose plaster falling from the ceiling. “Yeah, I'm gonna do something, you bastard. . . .”
-
Lot of emotion in this chapter. I suspect this chapter kind of wrote itself, didn't it? If you know what I mean.
-
Sort of. There were a few points where I sat there like, "alright, what the hell is he gonna say?" :P
-
Ah. Well, then I put my foot in my mouth. ;)
And I notice that you don't shy away from language that I usually refrain from using. I mean, sure, I use the occasional "damn" or "hell", but, usually, nothing more than that. (Realm Walker curses don't really count, because then I would be technically using "Goddamn" a lot. ;))
-
I think that's just kind of more of a personal thing. I swear a lot in real life, so it was kinda bound to come across in my writing :P
Probably gonna be a new chapter later tonight.
:edit: New chapter
Chapter 15: Breakdown
Logan played another low, droning chord. The bass frequencies resonating in the empty building bred an absolute cacophony, much to Logan's surprise. Exactly how loud could this thing get? It already seemed to be moving some serious air.
He didn't have much time to ponder this, though, as Dimitri quickly picked up and began playing his own guitar, adding to the sonic maelstrom. Logan promptly picked up his own playing until the two were riffing at the exact same speed, harmonizing perfectly. Had either guitarist paused to consider, it would have seemed rather odd, especially taking into account that neither were consciously building off the other musically. It was almost as if the instruments were speaking to each other, as one glorious swansong. . . .
Dimitri began playing a graceful, sweeping shred lead part. All the struggles of withdrawal . . . it could stop, as long as he could get that guitar. If only he could get one more dose. . . . All the pain, all the nausea had built up for the past couple weeks. He had tried to maintain a cool facade and make it seem like nothing was wrong. And for the most part, it was convincing. But at this moment, it all spilled over, clouding his mind, impairing his judgment, to the point where all he could think of was that goddamn guitar.
With his head pointed straight at the ground, Logan played a blistering riff, working his way up the fretboard and gradually transforming the riff into an aggressive solo. It was all he could do to not simply lose control and slam his pick against the strings, as every instinct he had was screaming at him to give in to his anger. This impulse was strong, nigh irresistible, but the one lucid part of his consciousness wanted to spare Dimitri. He's an addict, this part of Logan's brain reasoned. Delusional. He can't even think straight. But . . . how could Logan forgive him!? He had lied to, and even worse, used him! And with every note, every minute vibration of the guitar's strings, it became harder to resist his primal, violent urges.
Astoundingly, the building was holding up, in spite of the massive air displacement within. The years of neglect seemed to have no effect on the structural integrity of the abandoned Gerow's. It may have been due to the empty doorway allowing the pressure to remain somewhat even, or even some other unknown force. Regardless, this was of no concern to the dueling guitarists – particularly Logan, who seemed to be giving in to his rage. His playing grew more frantic with each passing second, and though Dimitri tried to keep up, Logan's playing was on another level completely. All that kept him grounded to his morals had abandoned him, leaving only bitter hatred.
It was clear that Dimitri couldn't win this battle. But there was no way he could stop playing; the wall of sound radiating from his guitar was the only thing protecting him from Logan's onslaught. The only way he could stop the madness was to wait until Logan could play no more and collapsed from exhaustion.
For a moment, it appeared that this was going to happen. Logan's breathing slowed, his knees starting to buckle and pupils rolling upward behind his eyelids. A crimson substance flowed unfettered from his nostrils. But still, his playing intensified, fueled by pure hatred and force of will. His mind grew more clouded, until his mind was no longer in the abandoned store. . . .
* * *
Logan stood in a white void, completely surrounded by nothingness. Confused, he glanced around, only to find that there was absolutely nothing in this realm. “What the hell,” he said – although, with nothing to reflect the sound of his voice, it simply carried into the infinite expanse of the place he was standing in.
Ah, Logan. It's nice to finally speak to you. This sound . . . was it even a sound? This thought, this idea, filled Logan's entire being, shaking him to his very core.
“Who was that!?” he demanded.
A spirit, perhaps? A part of you? It all depends on how you interpret things.
This answer did nothing to assuage Logan's confusion. Instead, it only seemed to annoy him. “Great, I'm going crazy. You mind explaining what's going on here?”
You think you can simply demand answers, Logan? You have no power over me. None at all.
“What are you even talking about? Where even AM I?”
The entity addressing Logan clearly had no interest in answering Logan's questions. Don't worry. Soon, I'll let you go. But just remember, this power of yours is both a gift and a curse. It is only limited only by your own conscious actions. Use it how you will, but be aware of the consequences. And remember: if anything comes of this that you will regret, you only have yourself to blame. . . .
With that, Logan's vision began to dim. Suddenly, he felt exhausted. And as he began to slip out of the void, questions filled his mind. What was this? A dream? A vision? And who was that voice? Of course, these questions would not be answered, as this encounter would only remain as a cloudy, unclear fragment of an all too vivid memory. . . .
-
"Logan of Earth, you have great rage in your heart. You belong to the Red Lantern Corps."
Seriously, though, I'm curious. How many chapters have you outlined for this, GH? You're not obligated to answer, of course.
-
I have I believe 21 outlined, but I've already condensed it quite a bit. Probably gonna end up somewhere around 18 by the time I'm done.
-
Ah, 'kay.
-
New chapter
Chapter 16: Swansong
It was dark outside before Logan finally regained consciousness. When he finally did, everything was a complete blur to him. Where was he? Why was this building completely destroyed? And possibly most important, why were his hands a bloody mess? Still somewhat dazed, Logan pulled out his cell phone and booted up his flashlight app. The now-decimated building filled with light, revealing its state to be even worse than he could see with just the light of the moon. “What the hell. . . .”
Then, he saw it. Dimitri's motionless, lifeless body. As if this sight managed to tap into his mind, the memories came flooding back. And it was at that moment that Logan had realized just what he'd done.
“Oh, god,” he muttered in disbelief, running over to Dimitri's dead body. “Oh god, ****, NO!” He didn't bother screaming or pleading for Dimitri to wake up. Didn't bother reasoning. He knew it would be futile. Instead, he just stood in silence, contemplating what had happened. And Logan knew that no matter how much he would rationalize, it was entirely his fault.
I can't stand here forever. I have to do something. . . . Slowly, Logan's gaze turned to Dimitri's guitar, which somehow ended up on the opposite wall, still in one piece. In Logan's mind, there was only one thing to do to the instrument while paying respect to its owner. There was no way he could use it . . . not with the memory so fresh in his mind.
Logan fished in Dimitri's pants pocket until he found what he needed – a sky-blue Bic lighter. He held the flame to Dimitri's guitar, and it caught flame surprisingly easily, possibly due to the satin finish. Logan sat and watched the instrument burn, the flames illuminating the desecrated store. The guitar burned for quite a while, and when the fire subsided, Logan finally stood up. Without a word, he left the abandoned store, and Dimitri's body with it.
* * *
Logan walked back to his house in complete silence, eyes dry from the heat of the burning guitar and pure exhaustion. He couldn't rest just yet, though.
Logan silently opened the door to his house. He looked at the digital clock above his stove and only just realized that it was two in the morning. Still early for him, but everything leading up to that night had drained him. Thankfully, his father and stepmother were relatively heavy sleepers, and it was normal for Logan to enter and leave the house at strange hours.
Logan stuffed a backpack full of things he would need – clothes, spare sneakers, a laptop, a phone charger, and a few cans of soda. He packed his guitar in its case, as it would be hard to keep it strapped on with the backpack. He grabbed what remained of his money and a few more things of sentimental value to him. His Game Boy Advance. Guitar effects pedals. An old flash drive that he used throughout high school. His favorite CD's. He didn't expect to use these very often, but he figured he should bring something to remember his old life by.
Leaving his house just as silently as he entered, Logan began his journey. He walked all night, in no particular direction. It wasn't until well after the sun had come up that he stopped in the next town over. He checked his phone battery – twenty-eight percent. More than enough. He made the call that he had been quietly dreading ever since he left home for the final time.
“Hello?”
“Hey, dad? It's me.”
“Hey, where are you? I saw you weren't home this morning.”
“Yeah . . .” Logan took a deep breath, still unsure of whether to go through with what he planned. “Look, this isn't easy for me to say. Like, at all. But something happened last night. I can't go into details, but . . . I can't come back home now.”
“Logan? Is everything alright?”
“Not really.” Logan's voice began to crack. “Look, I'll be fine, don't worry. And I'll try to keep in contact.”
“Alright. It's gonna be lonely here without you, you know.”
“You have Jess. I think you'll be fine.”
“Yeah. Well, take care of yourself, alright, buddy?”
“You know I will. I love you, old man.”
-
So, GH has killed Dimitri.
Cloak has killed Cataclysm.
No wonder GH decided to tell this to Cloak specifically.
-
;)
New chapter. Last normal chapter, although, there is going to be an epilogue.
Chapter 17: Loose Ends
After the phone call, Logan had no choice but to continue walking. He found it hard to continue, both physically exhausted and emotionally burdened, but something compelled him to keep going. He felt something poking at him through his coat, which he identified as Dimitri's half-finished pack of cigarettes. He took them with him as some sort of a memento. “Screw it,” he mumbled to himself, pulling a white cylinder out of the box. “Why the hell not.”
He lit the cigarette, and upon inhaling, realized exactly how Dimitri started the habit in the first place. The smoke helped calm his frayed nerves, and despite knowing just how detrimental to his health the tobacco was, Logan smoked it down to the filter, riding the subsequent head rush. “I could get used to this. . . .”
Logan passed by a particularly grungy man with long, greasy hair. “Hey, buddy, got an extra one of those?”
“Sorry?”
“A cig, man.”
“Oh! Yeah.” Logan fished in his pocket for another cigarette and handed it to the man.
“Thanks, kid. You're a real hero.”
Logan scoffed at this statement, even though he knew it was hyperbole. “Trust me, I'm anything but.”
“O-kay . . .” The man walked away.
Not long after this, Logan saw a familiar face walking his direction on the sidewalk. It took him a moment to recognize the figure, dressed in a black hoodie, with shoulder-length brown hair and a small but noticeable facial piercing.
“Brynna?” he said when the two converged, almost unable to believe that he had ran into her.
“Oh, hey!” Brynna said cheerfully. “Logan, right?”
“Yeah. What's up?”
“Not much, I guess. You seen Dimitri lately? I haven't talked to him in forever.”
Logan sighed, having anticipated this question. Feeling a sense of obligation, he relayed what had happened to Brynna, who listened patiently.
“Damn,” she said once Logan finished. “I knew D had problems, but . . .” She trailed off, not entirely sure how to react.
“Yeah,” Logan said solemnly, gaze transfixed to the sidewalk. “So if you can't tell, I'm in a bit of a bad place.”
“No joke.”
“Look, I've been doing some thinking, and I don't know if I want this thing anymore.” Logan gestured toward the guitar case that he was carrying. “Enchanted or not, it's way too powerful for someone like me. If this whole . . . debacle taught me anything, I'm not responsible enough for it.”
Brynna raised an eyebrow. “Huh? Wait, you do know that it's not just the guitar itself, right?”
“What?”
“The guitar doesn't have any power itself, Logan. I mean, it does, but it's only for unlocking the potential of the user.”
“Look, I'm not in the mood for some drawn-out explanation.”
Brynna brushed her hair out of her eyes. “What I'm saying is that not just anyone can use that guitar like you did. From the way things sound, Dimitri couldn't even handle his as well as you do. Like it or not, this is your calling.”
This didn't seem to comfort Logan at all. “Great. So I'm stuck with a ****ing murder weapon.”
“Don't think of it like that. Use it how you want. There's a lot of good that needs to be done in this world.” Brynna started to walk away before turning back to Logan. “You ever hear of RAF?”
Logan appeared to think for a moment. “Yeah, I think I saw something about it before. Some sort of vigilante group or something?”
"Sort of. I only ask because I happen to sort of know someone from there.”
“Yeah, I don't think it's for me,” Logan said, shaking his head. “I've got a lot of soul-searching to do here, and fighting crime or whatever isn't exactly on my agenda at the moment.”
“Your choice. By the way, that guitar can do other things as well, but I'll leave you to figure it out. Be safe out there.” And with that, Brynna left.
* * *
Logan spent the better part of the next year wandering the country. He took up odd jobs whenever he needed the money and spent most nights either in homeless shelters or on the couch of any stranger kind enough to take him in. Throughout his travels, he never used his real name – most of the initial cash that he had was spent on fake identification with multiple different names, to protect himself from prosecution should any details of Dimitri's death reach the authorities.
During his time without a home, Logan also found himself lacking any sort of purpose. The only thing that gave him any sense of fulfillment prior to the incident was playing in bands, and he dared not do this to avoid bringing unnecessary attention to himself. Perhaps a bit paranoid, but Logan was not going to take any chances. To compliment this sense of unimportance, Logan fell hard into depression, which compounded with multiple failed attempts to kick his nicotine addiction that he developed.
This all compounded one night when he found himself sitting on the shoulder of a highway overpass, staring down at the traffic. How easy it would have been to just shift his weight forward slightly, sending him plummeting to the road below. All the depression, all the paranoia, would be gone in an instant. . . .
His thoughts shifted to what the grungy man said to him his first day as a wanderer. That day seemed so long ago, but Logan's response still rang in his head as if he had just said it seconds ago. Then, it hit him. Logan was right in saying that he wasn't a hero. But he could change that.
He then remembered what Brynna had told him about RAF, the “vigilante group,” as Logan had called it. Suddenly, Logan realized just how he could give his life purpose. How he could make himself great.
How he could become a hero.
At that moment, suicide became a ridiculous notion to Logan. Foolish. Swinging his legs over the rail, he picked up his guitar that sat on the other side and continued his journey. Although, he now had a purpose for his wandering. He had to find RAF. He had to become a hero. A guitar hero? No, that was way too cheesy. He would be something else.
gh.
-
Final chapter
Epilogue
gh sighed, as if a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders. “I think that about wraps it up,” he said, fatigue evident in his voice. “There was some other stuff that happened, before I decided to join RAF, but it's not really important. I guess that's all I needed to get out.”
Cloak simply nodded, still processing all that gh had told him. Leatherhead, meanwhile, was fast asleep in his bed. He had dozed off quite early in gh's story – probably for the better, gh thought, as he was most certainly too young to have heard much of it.
“It's a weakness, I know,” gh concluded.
“What is?” Cloak asked, not quite following.
“The anger, or whatever you want to call it. It led me to kill Dimitri. I thought I had it under control. But then, well, that thing with Harrison happened.” gh looked Cloak in his eyes. “That's why I try to hide it, you know? I try not to let the others see that side of me. Not just because they think of me as some coffee-guzzling, happy-go-lucky goofball – not that I mind that role – but because I thought that if I kept it beneath the surface, it would just go away. You know what I'm saying?”
“I do. But you can't keep your anger bottled up. It can't lead to any good.”
“I know!” gh quickly lowered his voice, not wanting to disturb Leatherhead's rest. “I know. But what else can I do?” Cloak remained silent, not quite sure of how to answer this. “Look,” gh said eventually, “it's getting late here, and I really should try to get some sleep. Thanks for listening for so long.”
“It's no problem at all,” Cloak replied. “It takes courage to revisit those memories.”
“Thanks.” gh stood up, moving to open the door for Cloak. “Oh yeah, one more thing.”
“What's that?”
“Can I have my cigarettes back now?”
Cloak simply walked through the open door. “Good night, gh.”
-
Oh, I did not realize how close we were to the end.
That last bit. ;)
-
Wow, you went ahead and finished it. Damn, that was brilliant.
That last bit of the penultimate chapter sounded like the intro paragraph to Arrow. :P
Huh, funny, I had a spirit encounter in mind for an origin story, too. Maybe this same bored-ass spirit visits several RAFians? We'll never know. ;)
Also, a present for you.
-
Da hell? How did I not notice that you commented until now? :huh:
And thanks :D I thought when I wrote that bit that it was fairly clear that it was supposed to represent my character's anger communicating with the rational mind, but upon reflection, I think I might have sorta botched it. Oh well, I don't think it really ruins anything. :P
And thanks for the PDF!
-
A guitar-based superhero eh? And some heavy stuff in there too. I enjoyed reading it. ^^
-
Thanks :D just making it clear that I didn't come up with the character; that was all Cloaky :P