Hard core's Arc

Chapter 7 of 7

The recordings belonged to the band now. But the debt Hard core owed Zyx Voidstar still stood. The festival demanded one shared stage, and the two acts had never played a single note together. Hard core met the others at the instrument shop, the worn storefront where it all began. Tim spun a drumstick and said what everyone feared. "Two bands. One set. We clash, we die live." Zyx arrived without knocking. He carried a coil of copper tubing and a valve slick with grease. He set his steam rig on the counter beside Hard core's pink guitar case. "Heard you're worried," Zyx said. "You should be. My gear runs on pressure. Your guitar runs sealed. Different tuning. We fight the whole song." He didn't soften it. He never did. Hard core opened the case and lifted the sealed guitar. "Then we don't fight it. We build one set that needs both." Axel crossed his tattooed arms. He'd been dumped on curbs by venues before, and he trusted no easy plan. "Bands don't merge in one night," Axel said. "They break up in one night." They tried anyway. Tim counted in. Hard core hit the first chord. Zyx's valves hissed, spat distortion, and drowned everything. The sound turned to mud. Axel yanked his bass strap off. "Told you." The room went quiet except for Zyx's rig ticking as it cooled. Hard core stared at the copper tubing. Then at the sealed guitar. Two systems that refused to share air. "Melodius," Hard core said. "We need him." They brought both rigs to the old technician in the back workshop. Melodius pressed one long finger to Zyx's valve, then to the guitar's sealed body. He said little. He cut a length of copper and fed it into a fresh port on the guitar. He bled Zyx's pressure through it. Now the steam drove the guitar's tone instead of burying it. They tried again. This time the valves breathed under the chord, not over it. Tim's drums locked the two together. Axel's bass filled the gap Melodius had opened. For thirty seconds the shop shook with a sound neither band had ever made alone. They stopped. Nobody spoke. Then Zyx laughed, short and real. "That's the set," he said. "That plays live." Hard core lowered the guitar. The debt was paid, not with a favor, but with a sound. The clashing set was dead. One combined act would take the festival stage. Zyx wiped grease from his hands and looked at Hard core hard. "One thing." His voice went flat, the way it did when a subject was closing. "On that stage, whose name goes first?" He picked up his rig and left before anyone answered. The set was solved. The billing was not.