Battle of the Bands Part 5

Battle of the Bands
Part 5

Who are these strange men? They look like they just stepped out of Wild Hogs! Are they here to hurt you?


You realize how woozy you're feeling all of a sudden. The burly men are approaching the stage at a slow, humble pace, but to you, they're too close for comfort. Ringo's grip on you hand is growing tighter and tighter. You can barely see the men, because Paul, Ringo and George's heads make a wall in front of your face, but through the small spaces between them, you can tell that there are a lot of those scary men. Too much, in fact.

"You've been… looking for us?" John stammers. He's a barricade, concealing Eva and her guitar, but it's pretty obvious she's there, for her guitar neck sticks out.

One of the men crosses his muscular arms and chuckles darkly. You peer over Paul's shoulder and see the man. He's the biggest one, standing about 6'11. His eyes, like the rest, are hidden behind a huge pair of aviator sunglasses, but his are trimmed with solid gold. His short-sleeved shirt isn't nearly enough to cover up all the colorful tattoos dotting his muscles. A huge gray skull screams on his shirt. His boots, muddy and black, are bigger than your hand. A black and gray bandana is wrapped around his head, and his long white-blonde hair falls to his shoulders. He itches his mustache and speaks.

"That's right, Mr. John Lennon," he responds gruffly. His country accent is not uncommon in Texas, but his seems more threatening than others. "Been lookin' all over for ya. We almost gave up searchin', but thanks to a tip off from a fella workin' at this mighty-fine event of yurs, our luck's changed. And there ya are." He takes a step forwards.

"W-w-wait a second!" Paul jumps forwards, intervening quickly. "Why have you been looking for us? What do you want us for?"

Another man laughs, one that you just noticed. He's much shorter than the first man, and his long hair is black instead of blonde. Another difference is that this man doesn't look intimidating at all. He has no visible muscles in his lean, thin body. His wild gray eyes scrape hungrily across each of the Beatles, giving you the impression of a really large, underfed rat.

"Why we's been lookin' for ya, he asks!" His voice is nasally and strangely British. "Paul McCartney asks why we's been lookin' for the Bee-ulls! The Bee-ulls!" He gives another high-pitched squeal of delight before one of the other men shuts him up with a heavy blow to his side. He falls to his knees and crawls to the first man's feet.

"Shut it, Pinkers!" the man barks, kicking Pinkers back in line with the other men. He turns back to face you and the Beatles.

"Let's go back to actin' like controlled, civilized gentlemen, shall we?" he suggests coolly. "My name is Alpha. I am the lead biker, and also the lead guitarist to our heavy metal band, Wild Boys." He looks to John, who's shivering madly. "Ya ever heard of Wild Boys, Mr. John Lennon?"

John gulps and shakes his head. "N-n-no," he murmurs.

Alpha nods approvingly. "Of course not. No one's ever heard of Wild Boys." His body spins suddenly to face Dominick, who's still standing at the left side of the stage. He seems to have been trying to slink away, but Alpha caught him. "You there!" he snaps. "What about the Beatles? Have ya' ever heard of them Beatles?"

You think he's being sarcastic, but the tone of his voice is serious.

Dominick nods. "Yes, of course. They're standing right—" He starts to point at them, but Alpha interrupts rudely.

"OF COURSE YOU'VE HEARD OF THE BEATLES!" he yells angrily. "BECAUSE THEY WRITE THEIR OWN SONGS!"

And suddenly, you lose it. That was too much.

You become wobbly, your knees knock, things become blurry, and suddenly, you're on the ground. Everything goes black. You can hear George saying your name, but he sounds like he's miles away. A banging feeling surges through your head as you collapse. You can't feel any part of your body as you slip into gentle nothingness…

No! Let me go back! George is calling for me!

I probably got the name wrong. John's the one saying my name so beautifully…

Is Ringo still holding my hand?

Where's Paul? Did he catch me?

What's the deal with those men?