High School Musical

[Call me J]

(Closed. Remake of Rock and Roll All Night)

The Big Country was a magical place. In the Big Country, dreams stay with you. Quite like a lover’s voice fires the mountainside. The Big Country had thrived for many years. The Kids were united, and would never be divided. Together they had overcome the greatest odds, and had built a city where they were free to live the lives that they wanted to live, free from the people trying to bring them down just because they got around. They built this city on Rock and Roll.

All of that was about to change, The Man was out to destroy Rock and Roll. The Kids wanted to fight him, but they didn’t know what they could do. The Man controlled everything, the high school football team, the frat houses, he even brewed the beer that they drank. There was widespread panic through the city. Almost immediately, there was a meeting called by all the Cool Kids.

“Here, here!” shouted Johnny B. Quarterback, as he rapped his fist down upon the podium, urging for silence from the panicked crowd. “This arguing will get us nowhere, we’re going to have to do something about this!”

“How do we even know if it’s really real?” a voice came up from the crowd. “Rock and roll will never die.”

Johnny B. Quarterback was at a loss for the words. After all, it was one of the few accepted facts in the Big Country that Rock and Roll could in fact, never die. Not as long as it still lived in the hearts of all the Kids who just wanted to hang out and have a good time.

His question was soon answered by a sudden cackle over the loudspeaker. Moments later in walked Hal Monitor, known flunky to The Man. “The Man has no time to answer your foolish questions, but trust me, he will destroy Rock and Roll. He is currently building an evil device in his secret lair! You will regret ever messing with him… and you Sandra, you’ll regret not going with me to the prom when he makes me his second in command.”

Sandra merely turned up her nose.

In a sudden rush of bravado, Johnny B. Quarterback rushed off the stage. “Sandra, couldn’t love you, you don’t even know what love is!” he shouted. After all, as star quarterback, it was he who was in love with the head cheerleader.

Hal Monitor just chuckled. He pulled out his revolver and coldly shot Johnny B. Quarterback.

“Oh!” Johnny exclaimed as he looked at the gaping wound in his chest. “Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame! You give love a bad name.”

With that, Johnny passed out. Pandemonium broke out in the auditorium, and Hal Monitor escaped back into the darkness to go and conspire with The Man and his various allies.

In their panic, the kids held out hope that something, someone could come and save them. If no one stopped The Man, they would forever be without Rock and Roll. Also, since the quarterback had been shot, the kids didn’t have anyone to lead them at quarterback for the big game against Rival High.

Somehow, somewhere, the kids pined for someone who could come and save them. Perhaps five people, five people whose bravery would be known by their willingness to wear matching, but differently colored, jumpsuits and helmets. As the panic settled, they decided that they would have to send Killroy and his robot friend to go find five people who could save Rock and Roll from the clutches of The Man. Their courage would be known throughout the land by their abilities to wear such garish clothing.

As you can probably already tell, there will be a good number of rock songs which have their lyrics referenced or alluded to in this thread. This is meant as satire, and not as plagiarism.

[Siren]

Meanwhile, an aerodynamically shaped piece of driftwood sped in toward the Big Country beach on the crest of the biggest, baddest wave that had hit in a week. Too bad it hadn't been expected, and most of the Cool Kids had missed it.

The woman on the surf-caught board hadn't, though. A friendly chirp had alerted her that she could arrive in Big Country in style, and damn if she wasn't going to take it.

"I'm getting bummed goin' up and down the same old strip, I gotta find a cool place where the kids are hip..."

Of all the places the half-Mer loved coming back to, Big Country was the best. There was sun, surf, and sand, and parties all night long....and since she was in the neighborhood. It wouldn't be right to leave the best girl home on a Saturday night.

Fortunately for Killroy and his robot friend, they were scouring the beach for just the sort of people who would be crazy enough to help, and as the wave thundered toward the beach, Killroy saw the woman. Her hair gleamed red, blue, green, and purple in the brilliance of the sun, and she rode the wave like she was part of it. There was no doubt in Killroy's mind...this woman was a little bit rock n' roll, and she would fight for her right to party.

"Mr. Roboto...she's giving me good vibrations."

As the wave finally collided with the shore and the woman threw up her hands in exultation at the ocean's raw power, Killroy stumbled up to her, and found it very hard to speak, since the wet cotton shirt and pants clung to a nicer figure than he had ever seen - even his girl's itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny yellow polkadot bikini didn't seem to show off so much sheer sensuality, which is why it took a few moments and a low giggle to bring his attention up to her eyes, a rich violet and shining with amusement.

"Surfer girl," he stuttered, "I have watched you on the shore, standing by the ocean's roar...and I need to tell you. Here in Big Country, all our times have come here, but now they're gone...will you help us save our rock n' roll?"

Siren blinked, the violet fading out of her eyes to be replaced by a curious pea green. "Someone's trying to take away the rock n' roll this town was built on? Who?"

Killroy looked around, before leaning in close to whisper, "The Man."

A grin flashed across Siren's face as the green of her eyes became coral. "Well, we can't let The Man hold you down."

"Excellent! Come here, Mr. Roboto, and show her."

The robot, always dutiful, came forward and showed her the selection of garish outfits, to which Siren only grinned. "Please. Real women wear pink."

So the arrangements were made...the wild and wily wench was destined to go... to High School.

[Cyrus the virus]

The music was bopping, blasting heavy tunes that filled young Luc with the rhythm of the night. He moved with it, the music his mistress, throughout the Senior Formal Jamboree.

He'd never been a cool kid, always letting his emotions get the best of him, but tonight Luc was going to change all that. He would be the life of the party, the Fonz in these Happy Days; the way his feet were moving, you'd have never known how awkward he felt.

His target was Anne Icequeen, leader of the student union and all-around dynamo. She was Cher to his Sonny, but just didn't know it yet. She was taller than him, with horn-rimmed glasses that betrayed what was obviously a vast intellect. Smart girls wear glasses, after all.

"Hey Anne!" called the sauntering Luc, smoothly popping up his collar. "How about this party, yeah!?"

She looked at him, away from her friends, and seemed to consider the short fellow. Her arms leaning on the bar behind her - non alcoholic drinks, only! - her face suddenly skewed. "Aren't you, like, thirty?"

Luc was taken aback. His rhythm was snatched away like a Highway Star in the night. He would never fully recover.

Anne's friend gasped, leaning in between them. "Yeah! He's the guy who's always hanging around campus."

Luc needed to act, and quick. "Whoa, wait guys, you don't understand! I'm on the basketball team, I'm a student here too!"

Anne scrutinized him for a moment, then recollection dawned in her crystal blue eyes. A stabbing smile on her face, she declared the truth of it all. "Oh yeah, you're the waterboy, aren't you?" Her friends erupted in approving laughter. It, after all, was true.

He would have been upset, but as the hall blasted Techno Burrito for what seemed like the third time, a much more pressing matter took Luc's attention. "What a minute!" he said, with enough urgency to halt the laughter at his expense. "Guys, what's with the lack of rock n' roll tonight?"

Anne and her friends, seemingly unaware of the lack of rock n' roll up to this point, considered it. One by one, they became more aware.

"They haven't played any rock all night..." Anne observed, her eyes suddenly sunken.

"That is correct!" came a voice from behind Luc - not the voice of an angel, but the voice of reason. The mage, sunglasses still elegantly poised on the bridge of his nose, turned to look at Mr. Roboto. "The Man has taken it upon himself to assault Rock N' Roll, looking to eliminate it entirely. This cannot be done. Will you, sir, help us save Rock N' Roll!?"

Luc didn't need to hesitate, was already nodding profusely. He selected a black outfit (because it matched his shades) and was awarded a smell metal transformer-thing. Feeling important, he turned back to Anne.

"Rock N' Roll will be back in no time!" he declared. "I wear my sunglasses at night so I can, so I can see the light that's right before my eyes. You see, I have very sensitive eyes. I just thought you should know."

Saluting to the robot, Luc began to make his way out of the dance hall, putting his best 'cool walk' to the test. "Domo Arigato, Mister Roboto" he called back, knowing that chicks really dig foreign languages.

[Ataraxis]

Eventually, the rhythm will get to you. But not tonight, though; tonight, something got to the rhythm first, and that something was a bad beat. It carried from the senior blowout to the almost-empty hallways. “Uncool,” came a muffled voice from one of the lockers’ venting slats. Yes, this was uncool. More uncool than the jocks who’d locked her in the little metal box.

“Don’t like the way you walk, Suzie,” said Duncan D. Dunkman, slamming a basketball on the locker. It popped open and she fell out in a heap. “Just beat it, new girl. Nobody don’t need no Bee Gees Bookworm.”

The other jock, Puck Stickney, slid in between the girl and his friend. “Oh, whoa, whoa, Jamie's cryin’, man.” The hockey player turned to the supine teenager. “You don‘t want people to see you like that, eh? Here, lemme help you!”

First it was the dark locker, now it was the garbage bin. They left her whining there under failed exams and old but thankfully not used rubber. “T-That’s not my name”, she blubbered weakly, knowing full well they couldn’t hear her anymore. Jocks always bullied her because she read books with her headphones on and wore a pretty white robe to school, which defied the dress code imposed by the Fashion Club of Slutty McSlutty, co-captain of the Varsity Cheer Squad.

The only thing she did was stayin’ alive, but now all she wanted was to be taken home. Before coming to the Big Country, she used to live in Paradise City, where the grass is green and the guys are dainty, up on Penny Lane by Scotch Corner. “ I t-thought this city was b-built on Rock and Roll, b-but I haven’t heard a s-single song. I thought this w-was where it’s at, but now I’m j-j-j-jaded.”

“Hey, you pale and sickly child - you’re death and living reconciled,” said Mr. Roboto with his mechanical voice, lifting the bin and tossing it away. The girl wiped her tears off, and though she did not reply at the insult, she gave the automaton a cold, sad look from behind blue eyes. The robot ignored it. “Do you want to know who stole our Rock n’ Roll, girl? Most importantly, do you want to help us take it back?”

“Who?” she asked, brooding in the shadows.

“The Man,” he replied squarely, his cuff-like hands whirring up and down. “This will be a dangerous mission.”

The new girl snickered, eyes flashing in the shadows like two lit cigarettes. “There are plenty of ways you can hurt the Man… and bring him to the ground.”

“Then pick your outfit and join the fray,” said the robot as he fished out a yellow jumpsuit and helmet from his storage-stomach, extending it to the girl as his beady eyes lit up like fuses. “Electrical banana is going to be a sudden craze, Sally.”

“Yellow is mellow, and my name is not Sally.” The teenager snarled at the robot, clenching her suit between lilywhite fingers. No one here knew her name, and thus she decided they didn’t deserve to know it. After all, she wouldn’t be saving Rock and Roll for these snobs and muscle heads, but because if she didn’t, then who will? Who will save Rock and Roll?

“The name is Lucy, Lucy Diamond - and I’ll do it.”

[The Barbarian]

Big Country was just what Tyrael needed. At first.

The chicks had been cool and the smooth talking guys had been showing him the joys of rock and roll. His first day here was probably the most startling and crazy. A young football jock had ran up to him and said, “I wanna rock and roll all night! And party everyday! You in man?!” What was Tyrael going to say? No? The tunes had never been sweeter than they were in Big Country.

But now the rock was fading. Someone was snatching it from the streets, homes, and schools. His vacation from adventuring was turning into a stay in Squaresville and he wasn’t going to take it lying down. It was time to stick it to the Man. All he had to do was find a way how.

The barbarian was playing basketball with some of the other cool Kids, listening to some crappy techno love song. It was very lame. As he ran up the court, he noticed a robot moving to the edge of the court, watching intently. A moment later, the ball was passed to Tyrael and he easily checked a guy in front of him as he leapt into the air and dunked hard.

“I am Iron Man!!!!” Tyrael roared with good hearted fun.

The other guys laughed with him and took a break to get some lemonade and chocolate malts with their girls. The robot moved up to the behemoth of a man and said flatly, “You have the edge. That sharp twinge of the guitar is in your heart. Will you help us bring Rock back to Big Country?”

The barbarian didn’t even need to think twice about it. “It’s the Man isn’t it?” He asked as he remembered the beats of good Rock and Roll. The robot nodded.

“I am Mr. Roboto. Please wear this blue suit with the pride that Rock stands for!” He said as he gave the very garish suit to the barbarian.

“Take a look to the sky just before you die,” Tyrael said as his fist clenched around the durable clothing, looking towards the distance, speaking to the Man, “It is the last time you will.”

[Call me J]

Jame wasn’t sure why he came to Big Country. He figured it was because he needed some kind of a distraction in his life that wasn’t related to his father or his responsibilities. He had heard Big Country was a place all of its own on Althanas. The kind of place where it was easy to just cut loose, hang back, and live stress free.

As Jame made his way to the mall, he was more than certain that this was where he belonged. All around him, he saw comely teenagers. All around him, there were brightly colored shops, teenagers talking, arguing with parents that just didn’t understand, rhymin’ and stealin’, it was the perfect place for Jame. Since there was nothing in particular he wanted to buy, Jame made his way towards a store labeled Buster’s Games, wondering what kind of games they had in there.

When he entered the shop, he saw games like he’d never seen before. There were a few tables where people played games with balls, but for the most part, there were these rectangular pillars with screens at the front of them. There was a small console of pressable buttons and a pushable stick as well.

“Those are the video games son,” the manager said, noticing Jame’s confusion. “Don’t act like you’ve never seen a video game before.”

“I really haven’t,” Jame replied. “What’s a good one?”

The manager seemed mostly disinterested, but he pointed Jame over towards a game that no one had been using in a while called Quarterback 2000. “That’s a popular one there, or there’s pinball…” he said. “Just be careful of Tommy if you play that, that deaf, dumb and blind kid sure plays a mean pinball…”

Jame nodded. He made his way over to Quarterback 2000. It was a bit difficult to understand the game, even after reading the instructions. Eventually, after losing about thirty gold pieces, the half dragon had figured the game out well enough that he had a handle on the controls. He had figured he had to pass to the players wearing the same colored shirt as the thrower, and the other players were trying to thwart him. After spending a few more gold coins, Jame was winning free games because of how good he was getting.

“Hey there!” he said appreciatively to a girl standing next to him.

“I just threw for three hundred yards!” He had no idea what that meant, but the game seemed to treat it like an accomplishment.

She wrinkled her nose. “Get away from me geek! As if!” she said as she put up her hand between herself and Jame.
Jame shrugged. Quarterback 2000 was too much fun for him to get that worried about.

Soon enough, Killroy and Mr. Robato appeared in the shop. Mr. Robato’s robot sensors had noticed the skill with which Jame was playing Quarterback 2000, and while the two had been successful in recruiting most of the people that they would need to defeat The Man, they still didn’t have anyone to replace Johnny B. Quarterback for the big game. As they approached Jame, it was easily apparent to the half dragon that they wanted him for something.

“We’re going to need your help,” Killroy began. “You’re going to have to help us save Rock and Roll…”

“Rock and Roll’s in jeopardy?” Jame asked, a bit confused. He was not exactly sure what Rock and Roll was. He knew it was music, but not much beyond that.

“Yes, and we need you to save it,” Killroy said. “You and a group of everyday people are going to have to band together to take down The Man.”

Jame didn’t know who this “The Man” was, but he wasn’t eager to get involved in another adventure. He’d been through enough trouble already. He had come to Big Country to relax, not to start another adventure.

Killroy seemed to sense Jame’s reluctance, because he only pressed harder. “The thing is we need you. Without you, The Man will destroy Rock and Roll, and with it, the city. We built this city on Rock and Roll!”

With a sigh, Jame realized that his conscience wouldn’t let him just do nothing. He didn’t want to help, but it seemed like he would have no choice. “I guess I’ll help you,” he said grudgingly.

“Well you’ll be the quarterback then…” Killroy said with a smile.

“Your skill at this game makes us think you have what it takes…” Mr. Roboto revealed a red uniform and helmet. “And this is going to be your uniform that you’ll wear on your missions.”

Jame looked at it skeptically. “How am I going to attract any girls if I wear THAT?” he asked. He already could remember the way that the girl had turned him down before. He turned to look at her for some insight, but she had already gone.

“Trust me, as QB1, you won’t have to worry about the girls,” Killroy said with a wink. He practically thrust the uniform into Jame’s hands and then began to escort him out of Buster’s Games.

-x-

The next day Jame sat in English Lit, his arm very sore. He had spent the entire morning learning about things like staying in the pocket, the shotgun offense, spread packages and a bunch of other terminology he just didn’t want to think about any more. Even more stressful was all the passes he was made to throw. Though, as a result, Jame prided himself on having developed a very accurate arm in less than a morning’s worth of practice.

Now, he sat in class with a group of students at Rock and Roll High School, and the rest of his team was also in the class. He hadn’t been introduced to any of them yet, but he expected that they would soon pass him notes telling them who they were. Jame really hoped that the cute dark haired girl with changing eyes was going to be involved. If QB1 really got all the girls, he was going to want to spend as much time as possible with her.

As he studied over the playbook that had been carefully inserted into his English text, he worried that the teacher was spying on him. Killroy had warned him not to trust teachers, because all they wanted to do was bring the Kids down, but he had wanted to trust her. In fact, Killroy had warned him to look for clues about The Man’s plan from the teachers’ behavior, since they were so closely linked together. Nonetheless, Jame was hot for teacher.

Regardless, he knew it wasn’t time to be paying attention to class. He had a playbook to learn. He didn’t know what that had to do with The Man or saving Rock and Roll, but Killroy had told him it was important.

[Siren]

Siren had registered at the school as Roxanne Andersen, just to give her some sense of normalcy...since, after all, multi-hued hair and eyes that changed color with the slightest emotional shift marked her as extremely exotic, to say the least. She'd seen some of the girls scoffing at her hair, but figured they were jealous that they couldn't get such a rebellious mark without having Daddy take the T-Bird away. Not that her hair wasn't natural, of course...

But she'd let everyone think it wasn't, just for fun.

Right now, she was sitting in English Lit, bored out of her mind. She'd been rescued from Dheath waters at the age of thirteen, just as her tail had finished separating into legs, and hadn't had much need for such things. In fact, she could barely read. Her first class, trigonometry, had been easy; she used that stuff every day in trying to plot a course. But she had never needed to be able to read more than place names, numbers, inn names, and types of booze. This...was ridiculous.

Siren's eyes were slate gray, bored and dull, and she wasn't even paying attention to what the teacher was saying. She doubted she was even on the same story. She was looking at a page with the header Sweet Dreams are Made of This, under which someone had scribbled "who am I to disagree?"

Siren was sure she'd disagreed. From what little she'd picked up while her mind was wandering, it was about an abusive husband with a manipulative wife, and it was boring as hell. Still, it seemed to be the sort of life that suited them just fine, meaning that the writer definitely had to have been an agent of The Man.

She had out the paper that had been given her for taking notes, but she entertained herself by drawing a sea floor...some nice coral, a little kelp...some fishies...

"Roxanne."

Siren hadn't adjusted to the new moniker yet, so the teacher's voice failed to pierce her concentration.

"Roxanne."

When that failed to rouse her from her doodling, the teacher slammed her book down on the desk with enough force to cause the distracted half-Mer to jump a few inches and glare up at the intruder on her seascape, eyes darkening toward an angry black.

"Are you looking for something in the text beyond what pertains to this class, Miss Andersen?"

Andersen? Oh, duh. New name.

Siren's eyes drifted lighter, turning a brilliant coral pink in challenge to the teacher - an agent of The Man, in all likelihood. As such, she didn't mind causing mischief.

"I've traveled the world and the seven seas...everybody's looking for something."

The teacher scowled, and it was all Siren could do to keep her eyes coral, rather than letting them drift to an amused violet or amethyst. "Are you trying to fail my class?"

Siren just grinned. "I'm only here until the wind shifts, Teach. I don't care."

It couldn't honestly be said that the buxom half-Mer was trying to show off for her team. She didn't know any of them from Adam. She just had a problem with non-Captain authority figures...especially the ones that had her up during the day while she was landlocked.

She was sure that cheerleading practice after school would be more fun, though. At least that was active. These hard school seats were literally a pain in her ass, and the damn desk was so narrow she couldn't comfortably slouch over to sleep.

[Cyrus the virus]

Try as he might, Luc couldn't pinpoint what it was that felt so off to him. He had been a student for as long as he could remember, and yet... It didn't quite settle properly. He had the use of magic, yes, but something about his knowledge of the magic tuned him in that something had come over him. He just didn't feel like himself.

And yet, he thought, looking down at the black costume that lay in his hands, now I'm free and I can see, and I am me... Yes I am free.

He looked up from the costume and into the Deep Purple window of the door which presented the gym. Luc was sick of being a mere water boy, an assistant to the assistant coach, the kid inside the mascot costume. Today was the day he would use his powers to show his true potential - Rock and roll could wait.

"Coach!" called Luc from the entrance to the gym, his voice taking on a new command that it had sorely lacked in recent days. It turned Coach Weatherbee's attention immediately his way. "Give me that ball!"

With an amused, concerned look, the coach rose and threw the ball Luc's way. It bounced once and he caught it, noticing with surprise that his costume had disappeared into thin air. He dribbled the ball twice at that breezy door, summoning his courage, his resolve, his coming-of-age fanfare. With an almost-slow motion jump, Luc let out his Rebel Yell and let the ball fly across the gym.

Spinning perfectly with the aid of his magic, the ball swished through the net. Smugly, Luc raised his sunglasses, the ones he wore even at night, and winked at the coach. Naturally Weatherbee, having poor vision as it was, couldn't see the gesture from over forty feet away.

"You're too short!" called the coach. It occurred to Luc then that the coach hadn't even been watching, for some reason. Too defeated to even try again, Luc stood with fury mounting in his heart. He suppressed it, however, and left the gym.

Never had the dramatic guy felt so shut down, so alone - nobody in this school knew how bad he felt! There was nobody to identify with, nobody to trust, nobody to even talk to!

He could feel it In The Air Tonight, the heat of the summer. It only weighed heavier on him.

[Ataraxis]

“Layla, I’m begging, darling please!”

Just when she thought she couldn’t get no satisfaction, Lucy saw Duncan D. Dunkman in the hallway, blubbering at his girlfriend’s feet while his pleas for forgiveness fell on deaf ears. “Baby, you know I’m gonna leave you,” she replied with a tired roll of the eyes, twirling her hair around a finger impatiently as she waited for him to pick up his feet and walk away. ‘Finally, Layla’s got him on his knees!’ Lucy cheered in thought, happy to see that her tormentor was finally getting his due. ‘Instant karma’s got you, now.’

With Duncan out for the count and that garish suit stowed in her duffel bag, she was feeling pretty good. Sometime soon, she’d be a hero; she’d take back Rock and Roll from the man and would look pretty damn good doing it in yellow. Until then, however, she’d bide her time in class, peering out the windows and into the theater of dreams, while her classmates watched the clock roll off with life here in their glass prison.

She’d lost herself over the clouds during Trig: at some point, she heard the teacher say: “one plus one is one – together! One plus one is one – forever!” Not too long after that, she found herself in the heat of an internal argument over whether or not one was the loneliest number of them all, but before her many trains of thought could reach a consensus, she’d moved on to Geography class. She’d always prided herself on her extensive knowledge on the matter, but then the professor rambled on about how he’d been everywhere, crossed the deserts bare and breathed the mountain air in Reno, Chicago, Fargo and Minnesota, in Buffalo, Toronto, Winslow and Sarasota – places she’d never heard of before in her sixteen years of living. “Now it’s Istanbul, not Constantinople,” was the last thing he’d said before the bell rang.

At this moment though, her mind was starting to drift away in English Lit. Before studying the literary context, they had to review the political context of some nothern country whose dictator made trains run on thyme. Being a scholar, she was interested to know how the man had discovered the fueling properties of kitchen herbs, but it wasn’t long before her mind was going off the rails on one of those crazy trains.

“Are you feeling dizzy, miss Lizzy?” said the teacher as he struck her desk with back end of the next book on the list for their cursory reading – a fantasy book. She jumped from her seat like a flea, wide blue eyes staring at his blotchy bald spot for a few seconds before replying with a tentative ‘no’. “Ah, then perhaps you can summarize what I’ve been saying to the class about this book?”

“Long ago in the russian hills, a victorian explorer found the regal hogweed by a marsh. He captured it and brought it home; the botanical creature stirs, seeking revenge - the royal beast did not forget! Then he came home to London, and made a present of the hogweed to the royal gardens at Kew. Later, fashionable country gentlemen had some cultivated wild gardens, in which they innocently planted the giant hogweed throughout the land…” With a faltering flick of the wrist, the teacher had stopped her breathless spiel, then walked back to the front of the class with a bewildered look, unable to comprehend how she had managed this feat of memorization.

What could she say? She was just a memory girl.