A Star is (re-) Born [IC] [GM]

[Cubist]

KayJay's: A club in... well, you could call it the bad part of town. Technically within the boundaries of the Theatre District, KayJay's just happened to be located along that District's southern border, right up against its west end.

In other words, KayJay's was within arm's reach of the Fens, and within walking distance of Greenbank.

The owner of KayJay's was Kemen Johnson, a short, stocky Hispanic gentleman who went by the street name of K-Jones. He'd lived in Freedom City all his life, the last three decades in an Army Surplus Quonset hut he'd bought for pennies on the dollar, and he'd seen how urban decay had crept up on his neighborhood over the years.

K-Jones had seen too many promising local youths lost to booze or drugs, or just plain murdered in gang violence, and he didn't like it at all. KayJay's was his way of fighting back: An alcohol-free nightclub where kids could hang out and not have to worry about getting shanked for their athletic shoes. An environment where they'd be treated with the respect they craved, without being required to perform antisocial acts in order to 'earn' that respect. And since most of the internal volume of his Quonset hut had never been put to any good use, K-Jones knew exactly where this nightclub would operate out of. Of course, any club lived or died by the music it provided...

K-Jones called one of the numbers in his Rolodex. "Hola; I'd like to talk to Jay Xavier."

"Speaking," said... something... on the other end of the line. Nothing like the smooth bass K-Jones recalled from past conversations, this sounded more like some cheap robot's low-end synthesized voice. "What do you want, Kemen?" Whatever was making these words, it didn't sound hostile, exactly. It also didn't sound friendly.

"Ah..." Well, it has been the better part of a year since the last time I needed Jay, K-Jones thought to himself. And people do change... "Just your standard Exorcism of Gremlins, Jay. Got a serious gig coming up -- I want to be sure there won't be any unscheduled brownouts or anything."

"Ah. Preventive maintenance," said the bizarre voice on the other end of the line. "I'm, hrrrrm, I... don't know if I can do that any more, Kemen." The tone was different now -- uncomfortable, perhaps?

"Well, I, ah, don't know what's happening in your life, Jay, but you know what's happening in mine. And you know why I call you first, si? So if you're getting out of the troubleshooting business, hokay, is your decision. But are you sure you can't find it in your heart to do this one last job for me? Or, if not for me, then maybe for the children?"

There was a long pause. K-Jones was beginning to wonder if Jay (assuming it was Jay) was still still on the line...

The voice broke its silence: "Fine. You want me, you got me."

The remainder of the call was nailing down details, the specific time at which Jay would show up to work on the club's sound system, and so on and so forth. And after that call ended, K-Jones dialed another number -- the private cellphone number of Eddie Ozan.

"Hola, Eddie!" K-Jones said. "Hey, I heard you were back in town with the band..."

[quotemyname]

"Yo, what up K-money?" Eddie smiled on the other end of the line. He enjoyed making up strange names for the man. Kept him on his toes. "Yea, we just got back in, really. Finished up the tour. Now I'm gonna finish school. Figured you'd be proud of that. I'm not throwing any of my education away just cuz I'm a star, you know?"

The two had a sizable talk catching up. Finally K-Jones got down to business. "Yea, I guess I do owe you, don't I." Eddie submitted. "Alright, a show it is then. You know I could never say no to those kids. It's a fine thing your doing with that club, and I'm just glad I have the chance to offer my support, you know?" Eddie didn't always see eye to eye with the law itself, but his heart was in the right place. Serving drinks to kids was illegal. But he had his own way of thinking, and he figured the same way K-Jones did. Better it was some place they could be safely watched than not.

"Right. So I'll come by later and check out the setup. I've even got this new song I can preview for you!"

[Cubist]

"Right. So I'll come by later and check out the setup. I've even got this new song I can preview for you!"

"Hey, bring the noise!" K-Jones said, his smile practically audible through the telephone connection. "How about you come by around 6 o'clock? I got my usual troubleshooter checking over the sound system at five; he should be done in 45 minutes, unless there's a glitch that hasn't shown up yet."

---

And at five o'clock precisely, there was a knock on the front door of KayJay's. The owner answered it promptly, opening the door with a hearty, "Hola, Jay! Good to... see you..?"

K-Jones' hesitation was understandable, because the being on his doorstep bore essentially no resemblance to the person he'd been expecting. Jay's eyes weren't green, and he wasn't covered in black-spotted yellow fur, and he didn't have a long, sinuous tail, and --

"Hello, Kemen," the... apparition... said, holding out two driver's licences, both for JAY NELSON XAVIER. "Yes, it's me. Jay Xavier. Your troubleshooter." The two portraits on the cards couldn't be more different; one matched K-Jones' memories of the man, and the other was a head shot of the creature he was seeing now. And that voice -- yes, it was definitely the one he'd heard over the phone.

Dios mio, what happened to the poor guy? K-Jones thought, but did not say. What he did say, as he opened the door wider and gestured for his unusual guest to enter, was, "Ah... right, right. Come on in. I, ah, stocked up on diet root beer for you, but, ah, if you've got different dietary restrictions now..."

"Thanks for thinking of it, but diet ahr-bee will do," the cheetah said with a quirked smile as he stepped inside. Now that the initial shock was over, K-Jones noted the big cat's clothing; a khaki-colored Vest Of Many Pockets, much like he recalled Jay wearing before, and white pants that hung loosely off of Jay's thin legs. No shoes -- of course, even here in Freedom City, crossroads of all the world and points beyond, it wasn't likely that there would be any stores that sold footwear suitable for hindpaws. "And before you ask: No, I don't know how this happened to me. One day last year, I just woke up like this. Feces Occurs, as the saying goes." The cat did something with his shoulders that was probably a shrug. "Doesn't matter for the job at hand. I think I'll start with your amps; still got that flaky Yamaha A12?"

Now, that was Jay Xavier through and through -- all business, laser-sharp focus on practical details. "Ah, yeah, I do, and I guess it has been a little while since its last checkup. I'll just get your beer" -- an amused growl/snort from Jay proved that the joke was appreciated -- "and stay out of your way 'til you need me."

[quotemyname]

"You know I will!" If smiles could make noise, Eddie's would be competing with K-Jones' smile at an incredible decibel level. The two hammered out the details, and ended their conversation.

That night, Eddie touched down lightly in the theater district just before six. He pressed through the door to K-Jones' bar and peered inside. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure when the place was set to open. It was a youth hangout, so it was likely that they would only open for real business around eight or nine. Suffice to say, he wasn't expecting a crowd of any sort. "Yo, K-Money! Where you at?" Eddie peered around the entrance area for his friend, "Time is money, K-Dawg. Don't make me wait!" he called out jokingly.

[Cubist]

"Eddie?" came a voice from somewhere deeper inside the club. "Ay-ay-ay! Come on in, make yourself at home!" And after a short conversation that was too quiet for Eddie to follow, K-Jones emerged from a backstage door. "Well, look at you, muchacho!" he declared with an expansive arm gesture that led, naturally enough, into a brief hug. "Sorry about not meeting you -- I got a tech in, checking over the electricals to make sure everything's gonna be okay. So tell me, what have you been doing with yourself, hmm?"

[quotemyname]

"This." Eddie pulled a copy of Invertebrate out of his back pocket. He handed it to K-Jones. "Been on tour for the last few months for the new album. Just got back to town, actually." Eddie smiled, proud at his partial modicum of success. Now, unfortunately, he had to get back to the real world and work on making sure he could still graduate High School. "You're in luck. This'll be our last show for a while. I've got my real life, and the real world to think about after all."

"So," Eddie soldiered on, "What's the setup going to be like? When do we go on?"

[Cubist]

"What's the setup going to be like? When do we go on?"

"If I'm honest, the real answer to both those questions is 'whatever's best for Eddie'. So let me tell you what I'm thinking, and if there are any parts that don't work for you, we can fix the problem now, si? Hokay: The concert, I'm thinking it occurs on March 4th. That's a Friday, so it won't matter so much if the kids sleep in the next morning. Start things rolling at 7 PM; first half-hour is a local band for an opening act, then fifteen minutes to let you and your bandmates do whatever setup you need, and the rest of the night belongs to Octopus Dropkick. Does that sound good to you, Eddie?"

[quotemyname]

"Yea, man. That sounds pretty rad." Eddie shook K-Jones' hand. "Is your sound tech still here? I'd like to have a chat with him about some stuff. The way I do my show has gone through a few changes since I last performed here. And as one last addition, I'll need room for Stick's full drum kit, some walking room for Warren and myself, and if you can swing it, maybe a forward platform for Bass Girl to stand on and be all sexy." Eddie gave K-Jones a wry smile. He knew he was performing for younger children. "That parts not necessarily for the kids. The rest of us like to look at her too, you know." He threw in a wink and a nudge in the ribs just for effect.

[Cubist]

"Yea, man. That sounds pretty rad." Eddie shook K-Jones' hand. "Is your sound tech still here? I'd like to have a chat with him about some stuff. The way I do my show has gone through a few changes since I last performed here. And as one last addition, I'll need room for Stick's full drum kit, some walking room for Warren and myself, and if you can swing it, maybe a forward platform for Bass Girl to stand on and be all sexy." Eddie gave K-Jones a wry smile. He knew he was performing for younger children. "That parts not necessarily for the kids. The rest of us like to look at her too, you know." He threw in a wink and a nudge in the ribs just for effect.

The club owner rolled his eyes and gave an exaggerated, theatrical sigh. "For this I kept your ragged butt out of Juvie Hall!" he declaimed, the laugh lines in his face decidedly incompatible with his disapproving tone. "Hokay, the sound tech. He's not what anybody would call sociable, but he really knows his stuff, si? Hang tight, and I'll see if I can pull him away from his cables and voltmeters."

---

When K-Jones arrived backstage, Jay Nelson Xavier had just finished checking the noise levels on all the club's signal pathways. "Hola, Jay! Am I interrupting?"

The cheetah put on a half-smile and said, "Yes, but it's alright -- I've hit a natural breakpoint in the workflow, so no harm done. What's up, Kemen?"

The human's face bore a neutral expression. "Eddie wants to talk to you."

"Does he," Jay said, his demeanor clearly indicating that he did not share Eddie's desire for conversation. "That's nice; it's good to want things."

"Come on, bro'," said K-Jones. "What you're doing here, you're being the man's sound engineer, no? So what's the problem? I mean, I really and truly get it, your voice is crap now, and you don't want to deal with somebody who can still sing."

"Only for values of 'don't want to deal with' that include 'must suppress the urge to tear out the throat of'," was the cheetah's instant, snarled, reply. Then he upshifted, buying himself the time needed to calm down again.

When he returned to the normal tempo of 1, K-Jones was saying, "-- not one of your better jokes, mi hermano."

"I know," Jay said quietly, nodding his bowed head. "And I'm sorry." And I also know how bad I scared you just now, because I can smell your fear... "Alright, I'll be good. You go on ahead and I'll, hrrm, join you both for a nice, civilized chat. Okay?"

---

K-Jones was in one of the club's semi-private booths with a younger man whose face Jay didn't recognize. The feline hero tapped the booth's sidewall to announce his presence, and said, "You must be Eddie Ozan. My name is Jay Xavier."

[quotemyname]

"Hey, Jay!" Eddie was quickly able to determine that Jay was not up for shaking hands, so he saluted instead. "Wait, Xavier... Where have I heard th... Oh yea!" Eddie pointed excitedly, "You're that 'Runnin' with the U-boat,' guy right? It was a neat idea. Catchy stuff. I liked it." A large smile emblazoned Eddies face. His eyes told Jay that the abnormalities of his looks had definitely registered in Eddie's mind, but that he had neither a care or a judgment on the matter. He was just plain old excited to meet another musician.

"Anyway, sit down, get comfortable." Eddie waved the tangent away and quickly moved on to the next subject. "How are things going backstage? I've also got a guy who knows his sound stuff. If you need any help back there, I could give him a call."

[Cubist]

"Wait, Xavier... Where have I heard th... Oh yea! You're that 'Runnin' with the U-boat' guy, right? It was a neat idea. Catchy stuff. I liked it."

It hurt, the direct reference to the musical ability he'd lost... but it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. "Thanks, but I don't sing any more. The reasons should be obvious, yes?"

"Anyway, sit down, get comfortable." Eddie waved the tangent away and quickly moved on to the next subject. "How are things going backstage? I've also got a guy who knows his sound stuff. If you need any help back there, I could give him a call."

"Backstage is good; the tech is actually fairly solid," Jay replied. "Unlike some other clients I've had, K-Jones here isn't afraid to spend a little extra to ensure he gets it right. All I've done today is look for any glitches or breakdowns that might've occurred since the last time I was here, and so far, I ain't found nothin'. Assuming I continue to find nothing, my work will be done before midnight. As for your personal sound guy," Jay moved his shoulders in what looked like a shrug, "bring him in if you like. I probably know the setup better than he does, so if he's got any questions, me cluing him in is going to be faster than him flailing around in the dark."

[quotemyname]

Can't sing, huh? Eddie thought to himself. Shame. He was pretty good. I realize it's a touchy subject, but maybe I can help him with it in the future. Still, I doubt he'd want to be able to sing again if he needed a crutch to do it. I had better just leave it alone for now.

Eddie just smiled, and replied, "It's probably not necessary that I call him. Both you and K seem to know what you're doing." Eddie stood up from the booth. "Well, I have some things that need taking care of. I just stopped by to make sure everything was in order. KJ, let me know if you need any help putting up fliers or anything."

Eddie said his goodbyes and strolled toward the door. He spun to face them as he pushed his way out, pointing at them with his fingers like a pair of guns he left with, "See you guys backstage!"

[Cubist]

Jay held onto a bland smile and waved at Eddie until the young musician had left the building and shut the door. Then he slumped up against the wall of the booth, and muttered "Good friggin' riddance," under his breath.

K-Jones shook his head. "Uncool, bro'. And not called for, either."

The cheetah sighed. "I know." A weak smile: "Hey, I didn't even come close to ripping his throat out. That's gotta count for something, right?"

"Not funny, man. You need help."

"Too late," Jay said. "Being there and doing that. My shrink says black humor is a decent coping mechanism; as long as I can make sick jokes about that sort of thing, there's minimal chance of its actually happening."

"I see,"K-Jones mused. "And you did keep it together while Eddie was here... so I guess your head-doctor's doing you some good, si?"

"Yeah. He is. I mean, six months ago, I was really bad. One step at a time, y' know? Anyway, I should get back to work -- finish up the checklist."

"Hokay, you do that," K-Jones said with a nod. "One last thing: Any chance you gonna make the concert, Jay? No pressure; either way, it's okay by me. Just like to know, is all."

"Hrrrmmm... Maybe. No promises. See you later, Kemen."

"You, too, Jay."

[quotemyname]

Come the next day, Eddie wasn't seen in town for a while. He would eventually return just before the show, but that didn't stop his friends from worrying about him.

He would be performing at K-Jones' with his original band members, not the ones he had toured with. Warren was taking the spot of lead guitar, Alexis would be on drums, Elise Baird would be returning from the tour and staying with the band to play Bass. After Eddie missed several practices in a row, the two strings players expressed some concern that he would miss the show. Warren knew Eddie had been going through some hard times over the past six months or so. Elise was new, and only saw him on tour, so she only knew what he was like on that schedule. Alexis wasn't worried though he didn't open his mouth even once to express his sentiments. After countless speeches about how Eddie had better not miss this show, Alexis finally had enough and opened his mouth. "Okay, that's it." He said, slamming his magical drumsticks down on the kit in frustration after hearing Elise complain again. "He'll be here. He's never once missed a show. And you know damn well he can perform no matter what. Better than the rest of us too. He'll be here. So just shut up and play." Alexis rarely said much of anything. And when he did, it was impossible to actually see his mouth behind the forest he called a hairdo. However, when he did have something to say, it was always worthwhile, and it always got results.

The next few practices were uneventful, but there was still no sign of Eddie.

[Quinn]

Push wheeled himself from under the Caddy, wiping off his hands with the ubiquitous rag. He gave a mournful look at the car; classic showpiece like this only came through his shop once in a blue moon. Beautiful suspension, the engine purred like a kitten...damnit, he swore he wouldn't cry. Kicking the mini-trolley away, he dropped his wrench back into the toolbox and headed for the office, mentally tallying the bill. Now that was a real thing of beauty; a few custom mods, brand new paint job, engine overhauling too. This K-Jones guy really was willing to lay down some serious cake for the best. And shy of getting one of those tech-head capes to work on your car, Lazarus Auto and Industrial Repair was the best. Quinn threw himself into his nice new swively office chair and picked up the phone, rat-at-at-tatting in his client's number.

Hope the dude's not busy, got another client dropping off his car this afternoon and I need the space.

[Cubist]

A phone rang in the manager's office at KayJay's. As usual, the manager himself answered before the third ring. "Hola, and welcome to KayJay's! You're talking to the man, K-Jones. What can I do for you?"

"Hello, Mr. K-Jones. My name is Tom Walker*, and I'm calling from Lazarus Auto and Industrial Repair. I wanted to let you know that your Cadillac is as good as new, and you can pick her up whenever you like. When would be a good time for you to reclaim her?"

Unknown to K-Jones (or, indeed, to anyone else in Freedom City), 'Tom Walker' is one of the aliases of the hyperkinetic-powered hero Push, who also uses the name 'Mr. Stone' in his dealings with AEGIS, and whose true identity is Gabriel Quinn.

"You are calling to tell me this today?" the club manager said. "Dulce Jesu, you guys work fast -- I wasn't expecting to hear from you for another four days, maybe five! This is the most pleasant surprise I've had all day! Thank you very much indeed!"

"You're welcome, sir! I'm sure you're anxious to take custody of your Cadillac once again, so..."

"Oh, you know that I am. But..." Here, K-Jones' voice faded a little. "There is an embarrassing thing I must say to you, Mr. Walker. You see, there is money being transferred between accounts, and the bank insists on a waiting period for such transactions, and so I, ah... I cannot pay you in full right this very minute. However, the moment that bank-mandated waiting period is ended, and this will occur three days from now, I can and will pay you in full!"

Three days? 'Tom Walker' thought. But we need that stall free this afternoon! "Well, sir, we at Lazarus wouldn't like your happy reunion to be delayed if we can help it. If we can work something out, you can be driving your Cadillac before lunch!"

"Hmmm. 'Work something out', you say? Hokay... professionally speaking, I run a nightclub that caters to a younger clientele, as you may already know. Does this sound like a basis on which to work something out?"

"It could be," 'Walker' allowed... and the two men started dickering. In the end, Lazarus Auto & Industrial Repair got cash equal to half the total charge (that being the bulk of KayJay's cash on hand) plus fifteen VIP tickets, each ticket good for any KayJay's special event.

And just as 'Walker' had said, K-Jones got his car back before lunch.

[Quinn]

Push mimed a choking sound as he flopped back into his usual easy chair down below, hoagie in hand. Admittedly, the Tom Walker persona was highly useful as a front man for L.A.I.R, but having to slap on that cheery grin always irritated the hell out of him. He cast an idle look at the tickets occupying a small space on his coffee table, and munched thoughtfully. He'd been in Freedom City for a couple of months now, now that he thought about it, and besides a few really nice diners and take-out places that he frequented on his patrols...he really hadn't soaked up any of the local atmosphere. Granted, that wasn't really high on his priority list, but more than once Quinn'd been caught off-guard by other heroes he'd worked with who knew this city forwards and backwards, knew the big sporting or concert events.

Truth be told, what I know about this city could sit between diddly and squat. Man, back when I lived in GC I was all over the place when I had a chance, heading out with Mike for a burger and a bust, stopping in at Seventh Heaven and visiting with the guys...y'know, maybe I should take the night off. Yeah, I haven't done that in a while. And didn't K-boy say he had a show on tonight?

Quinn came to a decision, and finished his sandwich. Tonight would be Push's night off. Take in the club scene, try some fancy drinks (maybe with an umbrella in one!), hear some of the local bands...yeah, this'd be just what the doctor ordered.

[Heritage]

Some of Lynn's fellow FC students mentioned a show at KayJay, a venue she'd heard of but never actually frequented; other than the occasioanl trip to Midnight Hour back in the day, she tended to avoid all ages clubs for the simple reason that she'd been able to pass herself as over twenty-one for several years now. That and teenage boys were fairly gross and now of course illegal. However one of the girls mentioned that Eddie's band Octopus Dropkick was going to be headlining, so she decided she should stop in to give Eddie some support.

Ooh, maybe I can hang out backstage; that would be cool!

[Cubist]

Any chance you gonna make the concert?

Every so often, the club manager's question echoed in Jay's mind.

He didn't like to think about it. And for the most part, he didn't; it was easy to not-think about something, particularly when you had (lots and lots of!) other things to occupy your mind and focus your attention on. But still... every so often, just once every few clock-hours... during an occasional idle moment, when he wasn't working on freelance contracts, or patrolling the streets of Freedom as Jubatus, or dealing with clients, or 'feeding the beast' at one of the City's restaurants, or looking for new freelance contracts, or catching up on the technical literature, or...

Any chance you gonna make the concert?

Johnson had been right, damn his eyes: By checking over the sound system at the club, Jay had, in effect, taken on the role of sound engineer for Octopus Dropkick. And Jay had a responsibility, maybe not a legal responsibility but certainly an ethical one, to be there in case Something Went Wrong.

Any chance you gonna make the concert?

Yeah, there was a 'chance', alright. A line from a Star Trek novel passed through his mind: "So... your guess is that you're certain."

Jay sighed... sometimes he thought life might be easier if he was one of those completely amoral atheists that Christians liked to make noise about. He'd never met one, himself.

He opened his cell phone and dialed.

"Hello, Kemen... Yeah, it's me... The Friday concert. Just wanted to let you know: I'll be there at 6 PM."

[Cubist]

And on the first Friday in March, Jay Xavier failed to show up at KayJay's at 6 PM.

Instead, he showed at 5:30. And after a perfunctory exchange of courtesies with KayJay, the feline got to work, checking over the sound system one last time before Octopus Dropkick arrived...

[quotemyname]

At 6pm, Octopus Dropkick did show up. Well, most of it. The guitarist, bassist, and drummer were there. But as of yet, there was no sign of Eddie. The usually curt Alexis took charge, "He'll be here," the grungy rock star was saying, "Let's just get set up for when he shows. Kay-Jay's boys know where the stuff goes." He showed the stage crew to his pickup truck which he used to cart around most of his equipment as well as the instruments for the other band members. For the remaining time, he made a point of ignoring anyone that asked about where Eddie was. Alexis had no clue. No use talking about it. Eddie would be here. He always was.

[Quinn]

The roar of an engine pulled up outside KayJay's, and a man in a wool cap, denim jacket, black shirt, and blue jeans swung his leg up and over a black and gold motorcycle, his boots hitting the ground with a thud. Gabriel Quinn, alias Tom Walker, looked up at the giant KayJay's neon-lit sign lighting up the night sky, and at the title of the band on the card. He shook his head, flashing the pass at the bouncer as he went by and into the club. Hitting a button on his keys as he went inside, the bike revved itself and sped off (to the immense surprise of all and sundry outside), the onboard GPS and remote controls aiming Lazarus for a nearby alley where it would lock down and wait for him to return.

So...Octopus Dropkick? Never heard of 'em. Probably a bunch of jojo kids with too much makeup or too long hair thinking volume equals music...yech. Give me a good jazz band any day.

He walked towards the bar, then stopped abruptly as his head snapped up. His expression was actually quite humorous to look at, a mix of surprise and consternation.

"Wait a sec...when did I get old?"

[quotemyname]

Before too long, it was time for Octopus Dropkick to take the stage. Yet, there was still no sign of the band's front man. Kay-Jay was busy tearing his hair out back stage, despite multiple stern looks from Alexis. The drummer never actually said anything. But such a look from him was enough to say, "Relax, and shut up," that his lack of verbalization didn't damage the message at all.

Five minutes after stage time, Kay-Jay was fuming, and Alexis finally had enough of it, "Calm down. He'll be here. Don't make me say it again, because you are really messing up my groove." When Kay-Jay began to protest, Alexis forestalled him. "You ever heard Eddie speak on the subject of Axl Rose? No. As every venue owner must know, the man is notorious for just not showing up to concerts. Not that he's repeatedly late, he just never shows. He offers no warning about it either." By this time, the drummer was towering over the host, sticks in hand, "If you'd heard Eddie talk about that asshole, you'd know that Eddie considers that type of behavior the worst type of mortal sin. He. Will. Be. Here."

In a huff, Alexis turned his back on the owner of the establishment and addressed the group's guitarist. "They've waited long enough. Get out there."

Just before he revealed himself to the crowd, he began carving away at the guitar like a maniac. He struck out a well known opening solo. It was a series of complicated guitar riffs that he could sustain for a good amount of time if needed. But after a minute or two, there was still no Eddie. But right now, that didn't matter as much since the crowd was eating up the guitarist's fretwork.

The guitarist was standing just left of center stage, with his back to the crowd drawing out a long chord near then end of the solo. There was a sound like the crack of thunder, an explosion of light, and silence for a moment as the guitarist had ceased playing.

Center stage, standing at his full five foot eight height was Eddie Ozan. He wore ratty blue Converse All-Stars, Jeans with the knees torn out, and a leather belt studded with metal pyramids. A white T-shirt with the sleeves torn off and emblazoned with the Harley Davidson logo covered his chest. A black S.O.A. bandanna was tied around his upper left arm. His right wrist held a metal studded leather bracelet and both hands were covered by black fingerless gloves. He wore Aviator sunglasses, and a night blue policeman's hat.

Smiling like he hadn't missed a beat, he raised the microphone in his left hand to his mouth, "You've really got me,"

There was only a split second of delay before the guitarist responded with his instrument, without even turning around, "Wa waawa wa waah"

"You've really got me."

"Wa waawa wa waah"

"Giiirl, you've really got me now. You've got me SO I don't know what I'm doooiaaaaan'."

The crowd was cheering, and Bass girl fired her own instrument into overdrive as she sauntered onto the stage.

Alexis spared no more words for Kay-Jay. He simply shot him a look, held his hands away from his sides in a gesture that said, "I told you so," and, "What else do you want?" all at the same time. He smashed his sticks together as he approached his drum kit. Sparks flew from his enchanted drum sticks every time they made contact with each other, and when he finally reached his actual instrument, he practically attacked it. The drumming began as fiercely and suddenly as a powerful wave crashing against a rocky shore.

[Cubist]

When the band showed up, Jay Xavier didn't interact with them more than the bare minimum -- he introduced himself, explained that he was the de facto sound engineer, answered whatever questions the musicians had about the setup here at KayJay's, and that was it. Curiously, Ozan was missing; well, that was the band's problem...

When the audience started coming in, Jay didn't interact with them at all. Too many of them looked to be of high-school age; he remembered his own high school days. That had been an experience he didn't care for at all, and didn't appreciate being reminded of nowadays. Jay fully intended to stay backstage, and/or behind the place's 28-channel mixing board, until closing time. With judicious use of his Timeshift power, nobody would see him coming or going unless he damn well wanted them to.

When the band took the stage -- still sans Ozan -- Jay made Timeshifted trips outside, one every few clock-seconds, to see if Ozan was just running late; if and when the singer showed, Jay intended to hurry him along as only Jubatus could.

When Ozan arrived on stage, heralded by what amounted to a pocket lightning bolt and accompanying thunder, Jay's instincts triggered an involuntary upshift -- and then he started reviewing his mental files on the superbeings of Freedom City. The information Jay had memorized didn't cover all of Freedom's supertypes, of course. However, a guy whose days are 150 hours long has plenty of time on his hands, time enough to do a lot of reading...

...but the band was actually playing, so Jay back-burnered his private 'who is Eddie Ozan?' search and focused all of his attention on the task he was discharging.

[Cubist]

Eddie Ozan's unorthodox entrance actually stunned the audience into silence for a moment... followed by a burst of applause! All they knew was that they'd just seen one killer piece of performance. It was hard to pick out any individual person from the mass of listeners, but one kid made it easy, for this one was at more than a head taller than everyone around him. Apart from that, his hairless face had the smoothness ordinarily associated with pre-pubescence, and he was clearly into the music to a much higher degree than anyone else on the floor...