I Wanna Rock and Roll All Night!

[Call me J]

(closed)

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.

[Elijah_Morendale]

One thing I hate is how expensive coffee is in this miserable stretch of land. If I want a sippy-cup filled with a lukewarm double mocha supreme caramel swirl latte-chino, I have to pony up eight big ones. Cream and sugar is extra. Paying that much for that little only served to darken my mood. Speaking of my emotional condition, another thing I hate is nasty break-ups. Sure, it was a happy sixteen days, seven hours, forty-two minutes and thirty four seconds, but after not returning my calls for an evening she finally broke it off with me, saying that she found another guy who wasn't as scrawny and boring in bed as I was. Surprisingly, and to Nadia's disappointment, my unstable mental condition had nothing to do with it.

Fuck Starducks, and fuck Jackie, dressed in cobra tattoos and multiple facial piercings. I should've heeded my imaginary friend's warnings: She was the girl all the bad guys want, it was only a matter of time before she banged the next in line.

Nadia wasn't taking the break up very well either. My (for some inexplicable reason lesbian) imaginary friend was going through some sort of identity crisis: She had cut her hair shorter than my own in the back but left her trademark to-one-side bangs alone, coloring the entire ensemble a deep purple. She wore a black and white striped tank top, exposing more scars on her arms than my attention span allowed me to count. Although, one set of them on her left bicep closely resembled a heated round of Tic Tac Toe.

Her piercing jade eyes were locked onto my coffee as I strummed an Amin/C/Emin chord progression on an acoustic guitar I borrowed from some kid in Starducks. "You know, you're taking this thing a lot harder than you should. If you think about it, one little break-up doesn't matter. Hell, if you really think about it, nothing matters, does it..." Slowly, I was descending into my own little black parade.

Her red lips, now painted black, snarled in hatred. "That fucking skank can get sucked into a supermassive black hole for all I care. Next time we see her, I'm gonna' kick her in the stomach and catch her unawares. Maybe I can say she accidentally fell down that flight of stairs--"

I waved my hand. "That's quite enough."

A sharp cough caught me off guard, making me realize that I was in fact talking to myself in public again. I looked up to see a young man and a robot that was holding some very strange-looking sets of clothing. I cocked an eyebrow at him, and asked, "Can't you see I'm wallowing in self-pity right now?"

"Yes, I know, but there's something I have to tell you. I've been searching throughout the area for--"

"Look," I interrupted, "there's three or four other people here who would love to listen to you blabber on all day about something pointless. So why don't you piss off?" I noted, with some dismay, that Nadia's sour attitude was contaminating my own.

My solitude's intruder sighed heavily. "Because, I have peered deep into their spirits, but theirs doesn't hold a candle to yours." I clenched my hands around the smooth rosewood neck of the guitar as he continued. "We need you to help out our cause. You see, The Man is trying to destroy rock and roll, and we need your help to fight for our right to party, daddy-o!"

Did this pizza face just call me daddy-o? I continued to pluck away at the bronze-coated strings as I addressed him. "Well, it looks like it's my rights versus yours. Namely, my right to ignore you and your moronic pleas."

The kid began to beg, his voice growing whiny with each passing syllable. "Please, you must help us get through the fire and flames of The Man's assault on our lifeblood! We'll make it worth your while, I promise!"

Even though there was nothing he could possibly do to make anything worth my while, I contemplated the situation. Sure, anything would beat hanging around this hell hole of a coffee shop, why should I care about this "The Man" guy and his wishes to destroy rock and roll? I shouldn't. I know this, you know this. And yet...

"Alright," I reluctantly said after a moment of silence, "I'm in."

"Excellent! Here, you'll be needing this." The kid quickly shoved one of the strange looking suits onto the table in front of me.

"Blue...?" Nadia lazily eyed the folded up fabric and cheesy helmet. "No. Fuck no. Look, if you're going to be playing dress up, you'll need a color to match that of our empty soul."

But blue compliments the bout of depression I'm undergoing right now, my beloved other half, I thought to myself as I stood up, grabbing the suit on my way out the door.

[Sonata]

"I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles," Mr. Roboto explained sadly to his friend Killroy. He shook his head slowly. "I looked under chairs, I looked under tables, but I can't find anyone else."

"They call me the Seeker, I've been searching low and high," Killroy explained over a cup of bad coffee. The two were taking a break from their quest of vital and epic proportions. If they didn't find their saviors, then The Man would ruin their lives more quickly then vomit from overdosing. "We need to find someone who can play, who we can help rally everyone with."

"Need I remind you of the last three we tried?" Dr. Roboto replied, gesturing towards three battered bodies. One of them was choking out incomprehensible words from his lips. If someone got close enough, they would have heard "but the bag pipes aren't that bad, why? why?"

"Small details, I'm sure that we'll break on through to the other side," Killroy replied happily. He dumped the rest of his coffee over the three behind him, leaving their badges that proudly identified them as servants of The Man. "After all, there has to be someone around here who knows what he's do, damnit watch where your going!"

Killroy stepped back, staring furiously at the small little girl in front of him. She was a small thing, so much unlike their first Savior that Killroy almost laughed. She raised her bob of red hair, looking at him quickly then almost shying away. The front of her covered in some drink that she was holding, and she was obviously scared of the man in front of her. She was carrying a large bundle as well, and was obviously worried about whatever parcel it was. She muttered a small apology to Killroy, then went to the table, trying to soak the spilled drink out of the package's covering.

"This is all I gotta say to ya, woman, your time is gonna come," Killroy muttered under his breath. Dealing with The Man's agents and trying to find the power five was agitating him, and such a girl wouldn't escape his small retaliation. He walked over to her, planing on chewing her out and showing her what it meant to interfere with his nigh holy mission to rescue Rock and Roll from the vile clutches of those who would do it harm. He stopped in mid stride, nearly falling over and crashing like some great silver hammer upon some poor teacher's head.

The sight before him was beautiful. The girl had removed a cherry-red guitar from the case, fretting over the state of it as she lovingly tended to it. The girl's curves were non existent, though she had a pretty eyes and nice hair. Even still, his opinion of her swung around right round like a record. Her hands were delicate and pristine, and as they plucked the heavenly strings of her instrument of all that was Good and Nice, Rock and Roll hovered in the air. It was in its most raw, powerful form, and Killroy had not heard the likes of it since The Man began his unholy crusade against the righteous music. He paused before her, then tapped her should, Dr. Roboto watching with interest.

"I looked at you, and I can't turn back 'cause it's too late, too late, too late, too late, too late," Killroy began. He paused for a moment. "You're lost little girl. You're lost little girl. You're lost, tell me who are you?

"I'm Sonata," she replied slowly, protectively putting a hand on her relic. She looked fearful, but that was abated as Killroy showed held his hands to show he was harmless. He handed her a small card, with The Man's symbol on it and her eyes crossed for a moment before returning to their nearly scared lock on Killroy. Understanding was dawning in her eyes.

"I think that you know what to do. Impossible? Yes, but it's true. I think that you know what to do, I'm sure that you know what to do," Killroy said as he looked at the girl. She stood with wide eyes, clutching her holy instrument to her nearly non-existent chest. Her eyes were closed, and she chewed on her lower lip a little. Slowly, but surely, the girl's face broke into a warm smile and she nodded. Dr. Roboto approached her as the two shook, giving the girl the easy directions to the High School. They had found what could be the crux of their team.

[Christoph]

Bookstores in Big Country were always exciting places. Chris could spend hours sitting about, just reading. It was quiet and had a pleasant, mild atmosphere – aside from the odd cashier with all the facial piercings. The chef could ignore him, though. It’s not as though he actually bought anything very often, anyway. He just enjoyed the time to himself. He enjoyed dabbling in various areas of study. Novels were fun, too. He stayed away from those odd “Dungeons and Dragons” books, though. He had self-respect, after all.

He’d sit down with a book and often finish the entire thing, or at least enough to know whether it was any good or not. Sometimes, when he would get headaches from reading too long, Chris would stroll over to the music section to get his fix of jazz. He’d throw in some classical from time to time, too, when he was in the mood. He was usually quiet and minded his own business; nobody ever really noticed him, despite the fact that he wore a chef coat. As it was, this wasn’t a normal day.

* * * * *

“Damn… is a bookstore,” sighed Killroy with a ‘too cool for this place’ slouch. He was too cool for this place. But, as he remembered while looking over the impressive music selection, against all odds it was one of the few bastions of rockage left untouched by the Man. Even this haven could fall if he couldn’t finish his sacred mission for rock’s salvation.

But this was a bookstore. What did he expect to find? Was it something he left behind?

But then he saw hope! He’d never expected hope hanging out in the alternative music section in a bookstore, wearing a chef coat, though… Close enough!

“Yo, dude!” Killroy shook the chef-man’s shoulder. He turned around, removing the headphones and raising an eyebrow. "I've got no deeds to do, no promises to keep."

“Um... that's nice,” replied the chef, rolling his eyes. “Why don't you go not do any deeds to someone else.” Killroy blinked. The strange guy sighed. “Listen, I’ll speak slowly. I don’t know you, and you’re talking to me. Well, you’re babbling to me incoherently.”

“We need a brave hero to save Rock and Roll, dude!”

“That’s… nice,” replied the cook, starting to turn away.

“The Man is out to kill Rock, dude! We need you to be our champion!”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“The Kids who just want to hang out and have a good time.”

“Okay, and apparently ‘having a good time’ involves bothering me,” commented the chef, rubbing his forehead. Killroy swallowed. He couldn’t lose another one! He grabbed the guy’s coat and shook him, pleeding.

“You have to help us save Rock!”

“But I don’t like Rock…” said the cook. A long moment of silence passed with Killroy staring at the chef in blank disbelief. He almost wanted to cry, if it wasn’t so un-hip. “No, no… I don’t HATE it. I just… don’t really listen to it… much. Oh, don’t look at me like that! You can go your own way, right?” Then, he had a brilliant idea!

“But if the Man steals Rock today, tomorrow he could steal… whatever it is you’re listening to!”

“Jazz?”

“Yeah, that stuff. Rock with trumpets and saxophones!” The cook raised an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s a little more complex than—”

“Real Rock today, then tomorrow he comes after your saxaphony Rock! And what’s next? What, dude, what?” The chef couldn’t help but chuckle, a small smile forming on his face.

“You know, that was pretty insightful coming from someone with some a clearly limited intellect.”

“Huh?”

“…what I MEAN is, I’m in.”

“Awesome, dude! Now we’ll finally be able to stick it to the Man!”

“Wait, slow down for a second. Just who is ‘the Man,’ anyway, and what are we sticking him with?”

“The Man is the enemy of all fun. I’ll explain later.” Killroy handed his newest recruit the black hero suit. “You’ll need this.”

“Ha, black like my soul… just kidding.” Killroy blinked.

“You scare me, dude.”

[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. 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. In fact, she only knew one of them; the pyro-kinetic chef from the Acheron. She just had a problem with 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.

[Sonata]

Sonata was bored. Her headphones that almost always adorned her head were not allowed to be worn for some arbitrary reason that the girl couldn't fathom. She managed to talk her teachers into keeping them around her thin neck though, a slight comfort that they were nearby in case she needed them. Still, having them there was as far removed from listening to themas the black haired girl from some of the boys' attention. Sonata fidgeted in her seat again, balancing some of the little writing utensils in her hand. She had tried drumming with them, and while she got an alright beat going, her first teacher didn't really like that. The strange man also smelled of caulk and got all flustered when Sonata answered his question correctly and almost verbatim as he described it at the beginning of class. He muttered some about "Just let it be" and went on with the class, leaving Sonata alone with for the rest of the period.

English lit. was a little different though. The teacher seemed to makings round on the fairer sex, passing the open windows and looking over their work as she continued to talk. The woman grated on Sonata's nerves, listening to her steps as she scratched out marking on her paper. Her eyes were closed, but writing in a straight line was simple after one got used to it, and her musical notes were all nigh perfectly lined up. Of course, when a rather heavy text book slammed onto her desk and snapped her pencil, sonata shot up like a rocket traveling the stars.

"Mary here seems to not enjoy my class either, and perhaps she would like to answer a question before I continue Cross-eyed Mary goes jumping in again to dreamland," the teacher said in an angry huff. Sonata actually giggled at the big shot as she tried to prove it to the crowd, but she did put on a show. Of course, it was merely absurd to the girl, and she didn't realize that the angry glare she got was far from good.

"But my name isn't Mary; it's," Sonata began, about to reveal the name she was signed up as to her. The book slammed on the table again, and Sonata shrunk back in her table, her small form trying to hide behind her book closed in front of her. The red haired girl's mirth was washed away and she realized it might just be the end of the world, and Sonata knew it. She didn't feel very fine about it at all.

"This isn't a radio-free Europe," the teacher continued. She smacked Sonata hand with a ruler that must have been pulled from areas better left unsaid. The girl yelped and rubbed her hand. "Now answer my question or I will be dropping you where nobody knows."

"Yes, no, can you repeat the question?" Sonata said, almost pleading. She looked away from the teachers hot glare, pretty eyes focusing on one of the other students instead of the great ball of fiery anger in front of her. When she didn't repeat her question, Sonata unwisely trudged onward. "But you didn't ask a real question either. You just waved your hands and said something about how we're all slacking. We haven't even been in the class for much longer then ten minutes. And you've just given us our book too, none of us have had a chance to read it yet."

"So a little smart girl huh?" the teacher replied mockingly. Sonata chewed her lower lip, all too aware that she was getting singled out. Of course, her bravery levels were never high. Standing up to The Man might be tougher then she originally thought. The teacher continued her little tirade while the musician worried and slowly began to despair even. "I have half a mind to send your credentials to the house of detention, I got some friends inside who would be glad to take you for insubordination."

"And look at this, drawing in class!" the teacher continued for no reason more then to further humiliate the girl. Her current work, a barely started composition of music was held up for the rest of the class to see. About half the page was filled in an efficient and machine like writing. Sonata had heard about what The Man was doing to Rock and Roll, and she sincerely hoped that the teacher wouldn't notice the piece of paper for what it was. Someone may have noticed, but they made no noise. The teacher put it back down on the desk, staring intently at the girl before moving on as she scoffed again.

Sonata went down to escape from her prison, to free herself from her fear. Suddenly saving rock and Roll seemed a lot harder then playing some music and sitting in a hard chair. Music was Sonata's special friend, and right now it seemed like her only friend.

[Elijah_Morendale]

Alex Ryan. My new name is Alex Ryan.

I kept repeating my new name as I walked out of the school's main office. The long, saccharine corridors were daunting sights to behold: They seemingly stretched forever in either direction beside me. Doors with windows were placed equal distance from one another; portals to rooms confining the students that attended this school of rock. The mysterious individual that handed me my blue suit didn't give me much in the way of instructions. How am I supposed to be a defender of these poor masses when I don't even know what I'm exactly fighting?

"Welcome to the Tragic Kingdom," Nadia grimly muttered when she noted the suspicious quiet within the walls of the school. "Hey, chief, let's cut class. I don't feel like sharing room in your brain with useless knowledge."

"No," I firmly stated. "I can go with the flow for a little while. Let's see, my first class is--"

Nadia whined. "C'mon, chief! It's not like we actually need to go to learn books! We're only here to save a bunch of pitiful reproductive rejects! We don't need to education! We don't need no thought control!"

I waved a hand to cut her off. "We don't need you constantly pissing me off."

My footsteps echoed in the hall as I walked towards class. "Yeah, well, when you wake up tomorrow morning with a blood-soaked razor in one hand and your arms bleeding my sadness and sorrow, you'll wish that you would've listened to me."

"That's kind of poetic for a death threat, don't you think?" The imaginary purple-haired freak didn't respond.

Speaking of pissing, I felt the sudden urge to go to the bathroom. I dashed through the snaking corridors until I found a sign that said "mens". I pushed open the door, and immediately heard a high-pitched, lispy voice.

"The first rule of game club is that you don't talk about game club. The second rule of game club is that you don't talk about game club. The third rule of game club is..." The voice stopped, and five students simultaneously stared at me as I held the door open. The one who was speaking was a portly bastard, with acne, a five o'clock shadow, a comb over, and the thickest set of glasses I've ever seen. The other four looked like standard moping mall infesting fare. They all wore matching black outfits, their pants riddled with pockets, zippers, and random tears. There were sheets of paper with words and numbers scribbled in grid spaces, and at least two dozen dice of varying numerals.

Well, this is awkward. After several seconds of staring, I decided to break the silence. "I have to use the facilities. Can you please leave?"

The fat one spoke, his pre-pubescent voice piercing my eardrums. "The Knights of Cydonia don't move for anyone!"

"I'm not an 'anyone', I am 'somebody'. Get the fuck out before you eat some chocolate rain."

The kids rallied in their effort to bore a hole through my forehead with their eyes. Realizing they weren't budging, I slammed the bathroom door and decided to search for a different one. Class could wait: Nature's calling takes top priority.

[Christoph]

“Damn kids,” grumbled Chris as a pair of students ran into him while barreling down the hallway. The ironic part of his comment was that he’d been saying it ever since he was 12 years old. He sighed irritably. He’d just gotten out of the “kid phase,” and the last thing he felt like doing was reliving it. When that weirdo had recruited him to save Rock and Roll, Chris hadn’t realized that he’d be going to a High School. He didn’t know what he hated more, the loud idiots in the halls, or getting up early in the morning. “Monday, Monday, Monday… Can’t trust that day…”

English Lit was the first class that he hadn’t just skipped that day. It wasn’t that he particularly wanted to attend, but he figured that it would only be a matter of time before he was caught wandering the halls. The class was even more boring as he’d expected. Chris liked reading and writing, but the monotone teacher was still somehow able to make it boring. He spent the class yawning conspicuously and passing fleeting glances at that sexy and familiar girl with the strangely colored hair. He’d seen her somewhere before.

That teacher is certainly out for blood today, Chris thought. Too bad she’s not coming after me. I’ll tell her where to shove her question… and the answer, for that matter. Unfortunately, no amount of yawning would draw the teacher’s attention away from the other so-called troublemakers. It was a shame, too. He knew the answer. The chef fixed the teacher with a smug look and muttered to himself. “Dare to be stupid…Come on and dare to be stupid.” He grinned and leaned back, closing his eyes. Come on… you won’t. What could you do? Smack my hands with a ruler?

THWAP!

That bitch! The teacher’s yardstick came down hard on the Chris’s knuckles. He restrained the urge to jump or allow himself to appear startled. He lifted his eyelids as slowly as he could manage. Then, he had to restrain the even stronger urge to take the cursed ruler and set it on fire. That would be bad for keeping a low profile.

“Is class boring you, Mr. Daniels?” asked the teacher with a sneer. Chris feigned a sigh and suppressed a smile. It was beginning.

“Well, to be fair, I wouldn’t call it ‘boring’,” the chef replied. “I’d say something along the lines of mind-numbingly dull. Sort of like digging holes and filling them in again…” The teacher gave him a glare that could burn through brick.

“Then I suppose you already know everything… could teach the class yourself, yes?” Chris shrugged and the teacher kept on the attack, pointing to the board. “Perhaps you could answer that question.” The chef rubbed the bridge of his nose. Was that the best she had?

“That would be a metaphor… as opposed to the simile I used earlier to describe this class.”

“It seems that you’ve been paying more attention than you’ve let on, Mr. Daniels.”

“That would be a negative. I certainly haven’t learned anything from you.” Chris’s smirk grew larger as the teacher’s knuckles went white as they clenched the ruler. “You’re very lucky that you have a union.”

“Excuse me?” The ruler snapped in her hands as she glowered at him. Shiiiiit… Had he gone too far?

[Call me J]

The teacher seemed so incredibly angry that smoke was practically coming out of her ears. Jame fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably. He looked over towards the black haired girl, and rolled his eyes. Jame figured she would emphasize with him.

“Is your teacher this crazy every day?” he asked in a slight whisper, hoping that she wouldn’t hear them.

However, Jame’s whisper had frayed on the teacher’s last nerve. She started at Jame with particularly cold eyes.

“So,” she said, “you’re the new quaterback?”

Jame was startled. He turned away from the black haired girl and the smile across his face suddenly dissolved. “Yes,” he replied weakly, “I’m the quarterback...” A couple of girls sitting behind him giggled and waved, but that was of little consolation.

The teacher replied coldly. “Well then,” she said. “Give me a chance to bring you down. We have a little thing called no pass no play. If you don’t get the grades you need, then you’re not going to be suiting up for the team. I’m sure you’d rather sit around and joke with Miss Anderson about your plans for the weekend, but if you’re not careful then you might spend your weekend sitting on the sideline instead of playing against Rival High.”

Jame was indignant at the injustice of the premise. He had like the idea of football far more than he liked the idea of sitting around in class and listening to the teacher. Jame had figured that he had to be quiet when the teacher was talking, but that it would have been fine if he had spent his time between looking at the girl with multicolored eyes and going through his playbook.

Though he doubted the teacher would listen to him, he began to protest the injustice of the situation. “Come on!” he exclaimed. “I just want to play!”

The teacher smirked, as if she was enjoying Jame’s discomfort. “Well that’s tough,” she said. “You don’t have that option. You’re going to have to sit here and learn how to solve simultaneous equations that you will never apply to anything you do in real life?”

Jame cringed. He had no idea what simultaneous equations were, and certainly didn’t want to have to figure out how to solve them.

“And do you know why I’m doing this?” the teacher asked.

Though he knew he wouldn’t like the answer, Jame still asked.

“It’s because I can’t stand you kids,” she explained. “Running around... having a good time, acting like the world is supposed to be yours one day.” She paused for only a second before she continued. “Well its not. The world belongs to the people who make the rules, who balance checkbooks and work nine to fives and wear ties. What do you think about that, Mr. Quarterbackface? You got no choice, all the boys and girls.”

A moment of silence echoed throughout the class. However, the injustice of the situation had boiled within Jame where he could no longer bite his tongue. Even though he knew it would have been foolish to speak, he managed a defiant reply. “Well, we can’t salute ya, can’t find a flag, and if that don’t suit ya, that’s a drag...”

“That’ll be enough Mr. Torvald Quarterbackface,” the teacher replied. She was readying her ruler to silence him. “Who do you and your generation think you are.”

Jame had said too much to stop now. He got up and banged his fist emphatically on his desk. “Well we got no class, And we got no principles, And we got no innocence, We can't even think of a word that rhymes...”

Before the teacher replied, the bell had rung. “School’s out...” Jame said triumphantly. “Forever!”

“You’ll have me again 6th period,” the teacher replied icily.

[Siren]

Siren grinned at Jame as they walked out of the room, her eyes changing to a deep amethyst as she did so. Obviously this was their "fearless leader," which may have been why he asked her what the teacher was normally like. It mattered little, of course. After all, she'd probably be getting to know him quite well in the upcoming days.

"I don't know what the teacher's like everyday, Mr. Red the Quarterbackface. The name's Si - Roxanne. Roxanne Andersen. And meantime...I've got to go try on my little top and miniskirt!"

She flashed him a pearl-lit grin before letting the eddies of students herd her away from Jame and the rest of them, through the halls with their bland tiled floors and ceilings, past the rows of lockers, through the walls of bodies, and finally out to the football stadium with its little bleachers. The cheerleading squad was sharing the area with a gym class or two, and the squad's instructor, Mr. Cary Cheerabout, was busy giving the new recruit the usual pep talk. The other cheerleaders sat around her, bored as anything, and giving Siren a veiled version of the glare that she'd received from fellow whores a couple of years before.

"You are the face and voice of Rock n' Roll High! That means you have to give your best! All the time, everyday, Andersen, you have to remember that you are a cheerleader. You have to smile, have to be proud. Without you and your cheersisters, the boys would go out to silence every Friday night. Your job is to give them screaming fans. Screaming fans make Rock n' Roll glorious."

Cheerabout was a pudgy, fairly short man whose jowls bounced with every syllable, but he had an air about him of a man that could be fairly cool, as though he were still a kid at heart - and maybe he even had a touch of Cool Kid, at that. His enthusiasm and caricaturish movements, however...were more than slightly annoying.

"Yakkety yak," she muttered when he turned his head from her to look for nods from the other cheerleaders, but it was just a touch too loud, for Cary Cheerabout turned and wagged his finger at her.

"Don't talk back, Andersen. Now, lift your arms."

When she did so, he whipped out a measuring tape and took her measurements with lightning speed before trudging off.

"You girls get started," he called, "I'm going to have to order a special to fit this one."

Sandra sighed, slowly rallying the girls into the essential stretches to begin teaching their newest member some of the basics - they'd start teaching her the routine after school.

It hadn't been ten minutes before a chorus of giggles interrupted the routine, and the Rock n' Roll girls looked up and gave an almost collective hiss. At the top of the rise leading into the stadium gates stood a gaggle of girls, and the enmity between them felt as fierce as that between any bull seal during mating season.

Or any whore over a good corner, really...

She rolled her eyes, regarding the other girls as they leered down upon the Rock n' Roll cheerleaders, figuring they were just washouts from the program at Rock n' Roll. Most of them were thinner than they had any right to be, aside from one that looked like she was made of solid muscle.

"Oh we've got Trouble," murmured Sandra to her left. "Oh yes, big Trouble. It starts with T and ends with E and it's real bad."

Siren arched an eyebrow. "They sell musical instruments and marching band suits and try to keep people away from evils like comic books and pool? Or are they just failed underwear models?"

"Rival cheerleaders," explained Barbara Anne, a cute little brunette behind her. "Here to jeer at us. And probably check out our new recruit."

Rhonda, a sandy blonde with a bob haircut, offered a little more information. "Sandra and Rival's head cheerleader, Velinci Hamilton*, have been enemies since third grade."

It was easy to see which one Velinci was. Her long hair had undergone several bad dye jobs in succession, she had a broad forehead, eyes set too close together over a razor-thin hook that she called a nose, the mouth was full and pouty, but had never held a sincere expression in its life, and the cheeks were too full over a rather weak structure. She was the type that men might be drawn to if they liked bedding a cardboard skeleton with a parrot's voice, and immediately the half-Mer took a dislike to her...and moreso to the yapping little dog that she held in her arms.

"Hey Sandy!" The voice had a gruff edge to it, over an airy undertone and a light rising and falling that altogether sounded quite dumb, and Siren's desire to smack her in the face with a big banded rubberfish was only hampered by the fact that the docks were easily a five mile hike. Those things hurt, and she figured the bitch could use some of it.

"Sandy, I like, heard that your head quarterback was like, shot the other day. Like, what a total shame, right?"

"We've got a new one," Sandra snapped back irritably. "Now get out of here and stop interfering with our practice."

"Relax, girl. Like, we only want to like, check out the competition." Velinci leaned on the fence, not through savoring the chance to pester her arch rival. "So, new QB? That's hot. Is he hot?"

Sandra was developing a twitch, and Siren put a hand on her shoulder, giving the girl a reassuring smile. "No problem, Sandy. I've got this one." That said, she traipsed lightly over to the gate, ignoring the warning about Rachel - the muscular girl she'd noted earlier. Said girl pulled her leader back and made herself a barricade, folding her arms over her chest.

Musta been on threat of violence alone that she got onto the squad...

"Keep back, slut," she drawled in an extraordinarily deep voice for a girl. "Low ranking cheerleaders don't approach Head Cheerleaders from other schools."

Siren blinked in mock incredulity. "Really? I just happened to think she was cute. Here, give her this for me..." with that, the half-Mer leaned forward...and planted a kiss on the other girl's plain mouth, grinning sadistically as she watched the other turn twelve shades of red and stutter uncontrollably for a moment before the anger started flooding in.

"A FEW TIMES I've been around that track," she roared, "But it's not just gonna happen like that, because I ain't no --"

smack.

Siren had listened to a lot of drivel in her time, but nothing so blatantly...crappy. "Do yourself a favor...slut...shut up, now."

She watched the meaty fist curl up as extreme violence was threatened, but failed to be impressed. She'd seen bigger fists on bigger arms, and even been hit by a few of them. And she could hit back. There wasn't a reason to be cowed by a teenage girl in need of anger management classes.

"Oh...hit me, baby, one mo-"

SMACK

"I said shut up." Siren's eyes had gone from amethyst to coral and were now going to black, a change that had even the bravest of the Rival cheerleaders backing away slowly. In order to give them a reason to continue going, she fished a coin out from her shirt and flicked it at them.

"Go buy yourselves pizza and ice cream or something, on me. Don't worry about fat and bad carbs, I'm sure you'll barf it all back up later." A smirk crossed her face as she made eye contact with the retreating Head Cheerleader. "Oh...and if you bother us during practice again...I'll get you, my pretty. And your little dog, too."

A "see you at the game" was hissed before the gaggle was gone, and Siren returned to her own group giggling. "All right, we've got a lot to learn and not a lot of time."

Sandra looked at her piercingly and scrutinized every inch of her face. She knew that Roxanne had been recruited, but why? And why was she even doing it? And was she...?

Rhonda was the one to voice the first question, though. "You kissed that girl. Are you...?"

Slipping her arms around two suddenly tense pairs of shoulders, Siren grinned at the bunch. "Depends on the mood, but only with the willing. Life is way too short to waste on the unwilling...life is way too short. And that's why we need to cheer, and why I need to learn, and why we've gotta kick ass all the way to Doomsday...because life is too short to not live to the fullest. That's what The Man is trying to take away from you...and I'm not going to let it happen. We're not gonna let it happen."

"But..." started Barbara Anne, with a light flush illuminating her freckles, "I thought he wanted to take away Rock n' Roll..."

"That's where you guys find meaning and inspiration. You built this city on Rock n' Roll and dreams, and look what it's become. Today he's after that. If we let him take that, you'll still have football, you'll still have the mall, the science nerds will still have their projects and the...nerdy nerds? ... will still have their hobbies. But if we let The Man take Rock n' Roll...he'll go after those next.

"He'll take away your football next, and with it, your cheering, and you won't fight as hard because you'll already have lost this city's soul. He'll take away the cool stores in the mall, cut funding for the geeks so that they, too, must conform, and then, when the only bastion of free thought is the nerds with their...what is it? Madmen and Monsters? He'll close the game shop, too. All that will be left of this town will be shattered dreams. And without those, do you know what you'll do?"

None of them seemed to understand, so Siren spelled it out for them. "You'll survive. You'll work nine to fives and forget what fun is like. You'll lose the dreams and hopes you hold so dear. You'll be so caught up in this little insignificant thing called survival that you'll forget that it isn't life. You'll...stop looking for meaning in the little chords a weeping guitar makes, you'll stop feeling that light-headed rush after an amazing kiss...you'll be The Man's puppets and think you're doing well, when all you'll have are boring jobs and bad beer.

"So come on, girls. Let's get to work. I don't know what the plan is...but we're going to fight it. And I mean we, because if you aren't willing to fight for your right to party, then I'm going to see it, and I'm going to stop giving a damn. But until then...I mean to rock this school and this town hard!"

With reality enforced and hope a lingering lifeline, the Rock n' Roll Cheerleading Squad went to work, harder than they'd ever worked before. They weren't about to lose their inalienable rights to Be Cool, Have Fun, and Party.


*Velinc[i] H[am]ilton :D