Some unsolicited advice for any budding rebels, punks, anarchists, and anyone who wants to stick it to the man: Make sure your plan actually makes sense.
Such is the situation that we find a Mr. Marc Bryant in.
Now in all fairness, it wasn’t a horrible idea to begin with! Any somewhat self-respecting human could tell you that life on [Sky’s Unmatched Brilliance] could wind you up over time. For a colony that advertised itself as having a perfect 1:1 human-xeno ratio, the undeniable fact was that this was a xeno colony with a (rapidly, I’ll admit) growing human population.
A lot of the buildings, the tech, the roads; some of it still screamed “This is not built for you, little boy. This is built for the grown-ups.” And while many steps were being taken to ensure human comfort, well-being, and ease of access in the infrastructure of the land, anyone could tell you that it still felt majority xeno, down to the Jornissian name itself. (They got a little excited about the especially warm daytime hours in this area of the planet.)
Humans were the newcomers; the xenos had the power here. And god-heck-fucking-damnit, they still saw them as cute.
Marc was just a little bit salty about that. Cut him some slack, he wasn’t used to this sort of thing. He was raised with a slightly different view of the universe and his place in it, and that view revolved around one thing; music.
Before his emigration from Earth, he grew up surrounded by music, courtesy of his family. He lived with the greats from centuries past, and out of all the genres in existence, the archaic sound of heavy metal spoke to him the most. From the moment his Pops introduced him to his first Black Sabbath record, Marc was hooked. Completely hooked.
He lived with the most badass sound humans had ever conjured up from the electric ether. It was powerful. And now, he lived on a space colony where humans were the weaker, cuter ones. If he knew it was gonna bite this bad, he would’ve kept his happy ass home.
But, we all live with our choices. And Marc wasn’t about to throw a tantrum over how unfair it all was. God knows that would make him look all the more immature in the face of any xeno citizens present. No, he was smarter than that. He was going to rebel in a more intelligent way.
------------
The plan was… difficult at best, and a near-impossible balancing feat at worst. Marc would have to find at least two or three other humans invested in this ancient form of music (statistically unlikely), gain access to human instruments and sound gear through whatever means possible (slightly better chances, there were probably some fabbers capable of that), find a location free of any xeno monitoring (how the fuck), and gain a big enough audience through inconspicuous means. (how the double fuck)
It seemed impossible to even begin, until Marc had a neat idea. See, in any other situation where one person wants to recruit a group of other people, the solution would be to go on any GalNet forums and scream into the void until someone screams back. But as you can see, that runs the risk of xenos finding the thread and realizing what’s happening. Unacceptable. In this situation, your best chance is to resort to the old tricks. And that’s exactly what Marc did.
He went out of his way to find human-sized alleys, streetways, any area not built for xenos, what have you. It was a difficult search, but once he finally mapped out the best locations, he began putting up posters in those areas advertising exactly what he wanted. The text said something along the lines of “You are not babby, you are a fnucking rock-star, Stick it to the man, heavy metal time hehe haha” [sic] followed by Marc’s contact info. Straight and to the point.
After a few weeks of waiting, he was able to recruit 3 budding musicians into his friend group. Very fortunate, since he didn’t really have any experience playing instruments himself. Their roles were organized fairly quickly after that: Dean on guitar, Brian on drums, and Luke on the bass. With all that in mind, Marc was the obvious choice for lead singer.
Part 2 was to get everything they needed for rehearsals. Dean and Brian already had their instruments, so it was child’s play to get that equipment hauled over into Marc’s basement. Luke didn’t have a bass yet, but they were able to find a fabber in an “instrument” configuration after some searching. It was a fairly harmless ask of the Karnakian who owned it; they couldn’t imagine anyone getting overly suspicious over wanting one instrument fabbed, and with a little politeness and some patience, they soon had their hands on a pristine bass. Luke immediately proceeded to scratch the shit out of the body, to no one’s surprise.
Getting the sound equipment was a bit more difficult. If they really wanted to embrace the ideals of metal, they’d need a lot of things to make things very loud. It’s just science, and they had enough credits pooled together to pull it off. But Marc figured that if they all went and fabbed a gigantic haul of speakers, amplifiers, and cables all at once, some well-intentioned xeno would be a tad concerned as to why they wanted to imitate an explosion. So they split up.
All four of them snuck around the city, finding different tech fabbers, getting xeno permission to have their ideal gear set up on the production queue, waiting a few days/weeks, and picking it up whenever necessary. By not traveling as a group, they weren’t immediately identifiable as all working together. Sneaky, unnoticeable, never raising anyone’s suspicions. Ninja-like. Fuck yeah.
Rehearsals started off well enough. Marc was really the only one who needed to catch up to everyone else’s skill, but soon enough, he had turned his high-pitched voice into a killer singing voice that Brian described as akin to a “whiskey-soaked imp.” Others might laugh or raise an eyebrow at that comment. Marc took it in stride.
Now, the trouble really started when trying to find a concert venue. Even though this was a mixed-species colony, most concert halls and arenas were xeno-sized with some human seating areas. And even the ones that were human-sized were usually packed with cameras, security drones, and all sorts of unnecessary shit to make sure the “pwecious humans were safe and happyyyyy~.” Fuck. That. Marc was determined to give humans their own area to go apeshit without any irritating doting from other species, and that determination spread to his band-members.
After months of relentless searching, they finally stumbled upon an old building that might have been a restaurant at some point? Jury’s still out on that one. The important part was that they scoured the area for any sort of xeno-built safety precautions, and soon felt pretty confident that this place was all theirs. After days of cleaning, aggressive sound-proofing, staging, and seating arrangements, it was finally time.
Now, how to get people to show up? Marc yelled “More posters!” His friends cheered him on. Man, they were spoiling him.
It was a risky move, for sure. They had to trust any interested party not to snitch to their non-human friends. Otherwise, the whole thing was blown, and most of them would be immediately scooped up for smothering, scolding, and extra cuddles. Ew.
Thankfully, it seemed to go off without a hitch. Their first show, they had about 15-20 people in the crowd. Second show, around 35. Third show: 50. And it kept on going. People were hooked, and Marc couldn’t have been more proud of himself. Can you blame him?
And so, in the months to follow, regular concerts were held in this little human corner of a largely xeno colony. It was a safe space for anyone who felt belittled or discontent with the current situation. And to their credit, the band members played their part in public as well. They played the role of the doe-eyed, cheery little humans that everyone wanted them to be. No xeno would be suspicious that these cute little munchkins were, in fact, bitter and toughened rebels against society. Right?
------------
“How do you like that shit?” The crowd roared. Marc grinned with delight and turned to Dean, signaling him to start the next song. The cheers got louder and louder as Dean ripped into a fast-paced head-banger, the distorted sound burning through the air. After a couple bars, the whole band joined in.
Marc was banging his head furiously, stomping on the ground for extra measure. Those in the seating areas clapped with excitement. Those in the pit were even more hyped, if the whole-body dancing and screaming was any indication. The air was thick with passion and defiance, as he stepped to the mic and began singing about monsters, demons, isolation, fear, power, armageddon, murder, whatever. Someone at OIH inexplicably developed a twitch in their eye. The band didn’t care. This was too much fun.
“Fuck yeah, baby!” Luke yelled with joy as the song came to a close.
“He’s right, you know.” Marc tilted his head towards Luke and gave a wolfish grin. “Ok, lemme just say this real quick.“
“A lot of people wanna claim that humans are smaller, weaker, softer, all that shit. Tell me right now, do you believe that?!”
“Noooo!” The crowd roared.
“Does this look soft to you?!”
“Nooooo!”
“Do you wanna be weak?!”
“NOOOOOOO!!”
“THAT’S FUCKING RIGHT, YOU DON’T!!!” The cheers were almost deafening.
“You’re a human, and that means you deserve your strength. Now go home, and always keep that in mind. No matter what anyone tells you.” Marc’s voice was slightly quieter as he said this, with a passionate smile.
“Thank you so much, we’re outta here!” Peace signs and playful middle-fingers were thrown all around as the band left the stage and the audience began filing out of the building. Marc and the gang wiped the sweat from their brows and slumped into whatever chairs and couches there were backstage. Brian couldn’t stop giggling.
“Dude, is this never gonna get old?” He looked over to Marc.
“I mean, I hope not. It’s not getting old for them.” Marc raised his eyebrows and gestured to the main room.
“Yeah, that’s fair. I guess the question is, how long can we keep this going for?”
“As long as we want.”
“I’d rephrase that to be ‘as long as we can’,” Dean chimed in. “Cause you figure someone’s gonna find out what’s happening sooner or later.”
“Yeah, how have we not been caught by now?” Luke chuckled in surprise. Marc shrugged.
“I don’t question it. Luck and not-being-stupid-ness goes a long way.” And he raised a good point. There were a couple close calls where people thought they heard a Dorarizin strolling outside the building, or a Jornissian talking to someone. In those cases, all they could do was cut the lights and the sound until they were sure the coast was clear. But for the most part, they were just very fortunate not to be caught. Almost too fortunate.
Because while this whole scheme was immaculately planned, they were still being as loud and noisy as possible in the dead of night, when any xeno knew that humans were supposed to be asleep. You’d think someone would notice by now, even with the sound-proofing. Oh well, best not to question when things are going this smoothly.
Usually, Marc and his friends would stick around backstage for an hour at most before they said their goodbyes and went home to get a shower and some much-needed rest. But this time they stuck around for a little longer; hanging out, shooting the shit, getting something to drink from the mini-fridge, talking about plans for the future, playing some mindless video games. All of it served to kill time, until Brian looked up at the clock and saw how late it really was.
“Oh shit, we should probably get going.” Everyone chuckled at that and got up from the couch. Plenty of jokes were made at Dean’s expense when his leg joints started popping. After hugging everyone and saying goodnight, Marc slipped up the backstage stairs into the main room to take one more look at his pride and joy. It looked wonderfully familiar to him every time. The instruments, the scuffed floor, the sound equipment, the knocked-over chairs, the Dorarizin in the corner-
Dorarizin. In the corner. Fiddling with something. What something? Who cares. Big dog, right there. He saw everything, he must’ve.
Run, said Marc’s hindbrain.
Aight, said Marc’s forebrain.
Before anyone could react, Marc was scrambling back down the stairs, scaring the shit out of his buddies still in the middle of packing their stuff.
“It’s a raid!!!” He shouted to the other three. “Grab everything, get outta here!”
Soon the entire room was in a panic as all four of them frantically stuffed everything they could into their pockets and backpacks. No time to get the instruments, this was code red mode. Luke spent about 15 seconds trying to drag the mini-fridge with him before he reluctantly left it behind. They all proceeded to dash up the stairs in the hopes that they could escape without capture. Well… they got as far as the top of the stairs before colliding into an extraordinary fluffy chest and tumbling onto the floor of the stage.
“[Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I d-didn’t mean to, you know… oh by our ancestors please tell me you’re not hurt.]” The Dorarizin fiddled anxiously with his paws. Marc shook his head, still absolutely terrified but too exhausted and confused to continue panicking.
Luke was only slightly more eloquent. “Wha… who… huh?”
“[Umm… hi? It’s r-really great to meet you guys, uhm…]”
No response.
“[Y… you guys weren’t supposed to see me… sorry.]” Well, at least he wasn’t tackling them out of concern. The band were rebellious, but they were still smart enough to make sure they were properly scented.
There was a period of extremely uncomfortable silence for about 15 seconds.
“Wuh…” Luke whispered.
“[...Pretend this never happened?]”
Marc couldn’t take it anymore. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”
------------
Wrgrekahk-of-Ashragh used to describe himself as neutral on the subject of tiny-chompers. Sure, he’d seen them before, and he was in agreement that they were pretty cute! He just never felt the need to experience their existence on a deeper level, or something like that.
So when his buddy Sressk’Hsshapn offered to take him to this so-called “cultural learning experience” focused around tiny-chompers, his first response was simply to shrug and go “{Why not?}” He didn’t have any particular interest in doing so, nor did he have any reservations against it. It just seemed like a good time-killer.
When he arrived there, it was explained to him and everyone else there that this was meant to give an insight into tiny-chompers’ musical tradition. His face lit up at that. He had always had a fondness for music of all kinds, and could only imagine what tiny-chomper music would be like. It did occur to him how late in the night it was. Shouldn’t they be asleep by this point?
The host of the event, a cream-colored Karnakian with a gradient of yellow feathers named Rg’Tkelz, explained that they would be viewing a live tiny-chomper concert from a building across the street.
“[We have a camera feed into the building that will allow us to see the event with perfect clarity.]” She fluffed her arm feathers the slightest bit.
“[I would like to remind everyone that you are not permitted to approach or enter the building during the concert. We’ve had a couple incidents of people approaching it in the past, and it’s too much of a disruption. Security is nearby to make sure nothing like that happens again. Am I clear?]”
Everyone nodded, Wrgrekahk-of-Ashragh included. He understood the dangers of intruding on tiny-chompers thanks to his colonization training.
“[Alright.]” She signaled her co-host, a dull red Dorarizin, who activated a button on a switchboard next to her that projected an image of the building’s interior. To the left, there was a raised platform with all sorts of equipment on it.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“[These are tiny-chomper instruments, amplified through the use of old-fashioned electricity to reach the ears of a large crowd,]” Rg’Tkelz mentioned with a wave of her arm.
Wrgrekahk tilted his head curiously. So they had to use speakers to make their music louder so all their friends could hear it? Well then. That’s very sweet of them.
To the right of this platform, he could see a floor with dozens of tiny-chompers talking amongst each other and shifting on their feet. Behind that, there were a whole bunch of chairs arranged facing the left with other tiny-chompers sitting on them. Sitting oh-so-politely-
Wrgrekahk shook his head a little bit. He reminded himself to not get too weird about this. Sure, tiny-chompers were adorable, but that was no reason to fuss or fawn over them. Even if one of the sitting ones was swinging their little legs and smiling so much-
After a couple minutes of waiting, four tiny-chompers walked up onto the stage and began fiddling with the instruments. The crowd to the right began cheering. It sounded like a squadron of pups babbling at each other, and Wrgrekahk felt his heart swell just the tiniest bit.
The red Dorarizin at the front took this time to speak up. “{The people you see there are Tiny-chomper flail-sticks in the back, Tiny-chomper bounces-on-his-feet up there, Tiny-chomper musical-swaying, and up front, Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy.}” He pointed at the screen as he listed off their names.
Sressk’Hsshapn grinned towards Wrgrekahk and put a hand on his shoulder, whispering “[This is it. Here it comes!]” His voice raised in pitch from excitement.
Tiny-chomper flail-sticks sat on a chair without a back behind a huge set of discs and drums, while Tiny-chomper musical-swaying picked up something with a long flat neck and 6 strings pulled across it. Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy was inaudibly talking to Tiny-chomper bounces-on-his-feet, who had strapped a similar looking instrument with 4 strings to his body. They seemed a bit anxious, but mostly eager to perform. At least that’s what Wrgrekahk thought they looked like, as the camera wasn’t close up on their faces, and he did need to brush up a bit on his advanced tiny-chomper facial expressions.
Soon enough, Tiny-chomper flail-sticks hit one of the shiny discs four times, and before anyone could react, they launched into their first song. The tempo was relatively slow and groovy, but that’s the only thing about it that was held back.
Wrgrekahk-of-Ashragh, in all his years, had never heard tiny-chompers make this sort of noise. The drums and discs crashed and boomed with a relentless rhythm, as the two long-necked instruments sent a deafening, distorted melody through the speakers. What in the world was this? And why did he love it so much?
Before he knew it, he was nodding his head along to the rhythm and closing his eyes to focus on the power of it all. He opened them briefly to see Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy walk up to a microphone and begin singing into it. It was a high-pitched yet gravely sound, with a wavy sense of pitch that seemed to perfectly compliment the music. Unfortunately, his voice was so distorted that the translator could only pick up a couple words from the lyrics, but this wasn’t that big of a deal.
It was only when he let out a guttural growl that it occurred to Wrgrekahk that holy shit they’re trying to sound like Dorarizins eeeeeeeeeee-
His gaze shifted to the audience, where the standing tiny-chompers were flailing around to the beat and violently nodding their heads up and down. For a moment, pangs of concern rippled through his body as he feared for their safety. But before long, he started to notice the sense of community behind it.
Whenever anyone looked like they were about to fall over, someone else always stepped in and helped them reorient themselves. Whenever someone looked a bit overwhelmed, another tiny-chomper was there to calm them. It was as if they were one unit, in the weirdest, most chaotic way possible.
As he turned to see Sressk’Hsshapn just as invested as he was, two thoughts reverberated through his head.
One: By the First Pack, this was so adorable!
And two: By the First Pack, this was so cool!
------------
From then on, Wegrekahk-of-Ashragh was dedicated to seeing this as often as possible. Every time he was available, he would go down to the viewing center and let the power of tiny-chomper music wash over him. At some point he even started to turn off his translator during the songs, wanting to hear the vocals in their purest form.
He became intimately familiar with the music and the musicians behind it. Tiny-chomper bounces-on-his-feet, well… did exactly that. Tiny-chomper flail-sticks was always the sweatiest and most exhausted by the end of each show, but he always did his best and that’s what mattered. Tiny-chomper musical-swaying rarely interacted with the crowd, and instead focused only on the music itself. Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy, on the other hand, really loved to talk.
He had some interesting stuff to say! Listening to him, Wegrekahk learned a lot about the culture, history, and passion behind this music, the name of which translated as [heavy metal] in his bead. He wasn’t sure what a lot of it had to do with metallic materials, but who was he to question that?
There were some interesting comments, though. Ones that stuck with Wegrekahk for a while. Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy would sometimes talk about feeling dissatisfied with the culture of [Sky’s Unmatched Brilliance], and about feeling belittled by non-tiny-chompers around him. He seemed to dislike being considered smaller or weaker.
Well, that was just a fact! Tiny-chompers were inherently smaller and weaker than all the other species in the senate. That’s not a bad thing, is it? But the more that him-very-screamy spoke about his restlessness, his desires, and the urge to rebel, the more Wegrekahk felt a bit guilty.
Is this how some tiny-chompers felt? How badly did this sort of thing affect them?
Regardless of those concerns, Wegrekahk was determined to continue supporting and enjoying these concerts, knowing how important it was to them.
But he began to feel the urge to get closer to the music. To see inside the building. Not while there was a show happening, mind you! That would end horribly! He just… he just wanted to see it for himself. The instruments, the venue, the atmosphere. Even if no one else was around. And one day, that’s exactly what he did.
Sneaking past the guards was a breeze for him, especially since they seemed to become fairly lax at their jobs once all the tiny-chompers were gone. Wegrekahk’s dark blue fur helped him blend well into the night, and it took all of 15 minutes for him to sneak into the building.
The thing that stuck out to him at first is how small everything was! The chairs, the instruments, the speakers; all teeny-tiny! Thankfully, the roof was high enough that he didn’t feel cramped walking through it.
For a few minutes, he was content just to admire the sights and maybe fiddle around with the speakers a bit. It almost felt like walking on holy ground to a fan like him. Yeah, this was amazing. He could stay here forever…
Suddenly, his ears picked up a frantic scrabbling sound coming from the right. He immediately twisted his head to see what it was, but it was already gone. He could tell it came from the small staircase beside the stage, and when he crept over to see what was going on, he could hear voices. Very small, very scared noises.
Oh no. Was that them? Wegrekahk’s ears flopped back on his head as he began backing away from the stairs. That had to be them. One of them saw him, and he frightened them. This was bad, this was really really bad, he was going to get in so much trouble-
His thoughts were interrupted when all of them charged up the stairs and bounced off of his torso. It felt like someone had lovingly bapped his chest four times over. They all collapsed on the ground, looking up at him with terror in their eyes. It broke his heart.
“{Oh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I d-didn’t mean to, you know… oh by our ancestors please tell me you’re not hurt.}” Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy shook his head. Tiny-chomper bounces-on-his-feet said something akin to “[Wha… who… huh?]”
“{Umm… hi? It’s r-really great to meet you guys, uhm…}” They just… looked so small next to him. “{Y… you guys weren’t supposed to see me… sorry.}”
Xktk-Nglerawk-of-Ashragh always taught him to be polite to others, be level-headed, and keep his dignity in all situations. Wegrekahk always wanted to honor his advice. But by the First Pack, the urge to scream and sob and cradle the little tiny-chompers in his arms like babby was almost unbearable. It took all of his strength to keep his cool.
They still weren’t saying anything. He wanted this situation to end so badly.
“{...Pretend this never happened?}” Ok, so that was a long shot.
“[WHAT IS GOING ON?!]” Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy yelled. The name felt all the more appropriate.
Wegrekahk didn’t even get the chance to respond before they all heard the door open and turned to see a Jornissian guard slide in.
“[Hey, hey! Whoever that is, you’re not allowed to be here! This is a tiny-chomper-only loca…]” She trailed off as she saw the scene in front of her. Wegrekhahk sheepishly smiled, while his ears might as well have been taped to his skull at this point. The guard’s jaw dropped open.
“[No, no… Really?]”
“{...Sorry.}”
------------
Rg’Tkelz couldn’t have been more proud of this whole arrangement. When she first heard the little-needs-protectings jamming away in that old restaurant, her first instinct was to panic and break the door down to figure out why they were screaming so loud. But her brain knew better than to do that. Her panic might endanger them even further. Instead, she decided to watch from afar, and learn exactly what this was.
Once she figured out that they weren’t in any danger, she saw this as a great opportunity! She’d been looking for a chance to teach others about little-needs-protecting culture, and this was the perfect niche to help her stand out from the other wannabe educators! Besides, maybe now people would stop making those stupid jokes about Karnakian luck, because who could deny that this was extremely lucky of her?
And now, she had a passion that also happened to pay off very well! Thank God for Gurnrzegk-of-Akhzin for all his help in actually arranging the entire setup. She knew he preferred to stay out of the spotlight except to make certain comments when needed, but still, his contributions were invaluable and she always tried to make sure he knew it.
Yeah. Things were alright.
“[Hey, uh, Rg’Tkelz?]” Well, there he was over the intercom right now!
“|Mhmm? What can I help you with?|” She straightened up her desk the tiniest bit. Even if she was the boss, it was never a bad idea to look presentable for one’s employees.
“[We have a bit of a… situation at the building.]” Strange. Usually Gurnrzegk wasn’t that hesitant to tell her something.
“|Oh boy. Is the camo on one of the security drones flickering again?|”
“[No? It’s, uh. A bit more serious than that.]”
“|Wait, did anyone get injured?|” Her heart rate rose at the thought.
“[No, no! I mean… It doesn’t look like it. You’ll see in a few seconds, Vssisha just got here.]”
And like magic, as soon as he said it, the guard of that name stormed into Rg’Tkelz’s office, seeming fit to explode from anger. Behind her was a very guilty-looking Dorarizin and four, very confused, very familiar-looking little-needs-protectings.
Rg’Tkelz figured that if she managed to vocalize the screams running through her head at this very moment, the true name of God might be spoken.
------------
Sitting in this giant office, sitting in an oversized chair next to his compatriots, getting stared down by the Karnakian behind a desk; Marc had the unshakeable feeling of being like a kid in elementary school called to the principal’s office.
Didn’t help that the room was so quiet. What were they about to say? Were they about to scold the band for their recklessness? Go all panicky about their safety and whether they got their requisite naptime? Try to pick them up and smother them against their will? Something, anything! Hello?
Marc pinched the bridge between his nose. “Okay, I-”
“[I’m sorry about all this.]”
“Wh-huh?” He blinked in surprise as the Karnakian spoke up.
“[I’m sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this.]”
“I… don’t even know how to respond to that because I can’t tell what you mean by that.”
“[Look.]” She straightened her desk’s nameplate. “[We were going to reveal this to you sooner, on our own terms. But it’s not exactly an easy thing to break to someone, especially when they clearly wanted this sort of thing kept to themselves.]”
“Reveal what?”
The Karnakian gave him a deadpan look. “[Reveal the fact that your “secret” concerts weren’t in fact very secret at all and we were actually monitoring the whole thing and broadcasting it to anyone interested in learning about this part of human culture? Does that make sense? Do you know how to respond to that?]” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “[I’m sorry,]” she said in a softer tone of voice. “[I shouldn’t be getting upset at you.]”
Marc didn’t respond. This was a bombshell just dropped on him. No, the term “bombshell” didn’t even apply here. This was a part of his life he carved out for himself and his friends, all with as little xeno help as possible, and even then they just couldn’t keep their hands off of it? This work of art that belonged to him didn’t even belong to him?!
“So you just let us… pretend?”
“[Well that’s…]” The Karnakian grimaced. “[I guess so. Yes, we did let you pretend, Marc.]”
“And she even knows my name.” Marc let out the biggest sigh of his life and turned to face Luke. He also seemed troubled, but less so than Marc.
“Dude. They fuckin’ Truman Show’d us.” Marc groaned.
“I mean, ok; One: Stop making these weird old references that no one besides us gets.” Luke ran a hand through his hair. “And two, I feel like that’s kinda exaggerating it? I mean yeah, this sucks, but-”
“No, that’s exactly what it is.” Marc rested his head in his right hand, grumbling to himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Jornissian guard’s face turn sympathetic.
“[Are… you alright?]” She whispered.
Marc dryly chuckled. “No.”
The Dorarizin who found them rubbed his arm awkwardly. “[I should probably-]”
“Oh, don’t you even fucking say anything, Mr. Intruder.”
“[Sorry.]”
After a minute of uncomfortable silence, he tilted his head up to meet the gaze of the Karnakian.
“I hate myself for asking, but when did you first catch us doing this?”
“[Well, that’s difficult to say exactly. When did you start doing this?]”
“Well we’ve been doing this for… shit, over a year at this point. But I’d have to say that the first concert we actually held was nine months ago, I think?”
At that, the Karnakian shrunk back as her head crest gradually lowered itself. “[Then, I think, we might’ve discovered you… during… your first concert… maybe?]” She nervously grinned.
For a minute, it seemed like Marc hadn’t heard her properly. He blankly stared at her, not moving a muscle. All the xenos in the room worried for a second that they’d accidentally broken the poor human. Eventually, Marc huffed in defeat and gave a grim smile.
“Yeah, that makes sense. Yeah. I mean, we weren’t even subtl- I- Fu-” He furiously slammed his hand on the desk and slid off the chair, blindingly furious.
“[Hey, hey, none of that!]” The guard said.
“Dude, calm down!” Brian raised his hands in an attempt to placate Marc.
“No, fuck off, we weren’t even subtle!” Marc’s voice trembled with rage. “Of course we weren’t, none of this even made any sense!!” His grin turned almost manic. “Did we just not realize? Did we just get the stupid all of the sudden?! How was this even supposed to work?” He frantically paced around the room.
“We were playing heavy metal, at ear-bleeding volumes, in an old shitty brick building! Sound-proofing be damned, these fuckers have super-hearing or something, man!” Marc’s breathing sped up. “Maybe we’d be able to hide from a 90-year-old deaf guy with headphones on, but these guys? What the hell were we thinking?! It’s like you said, Luke! ‘How have we not been caught by now?’ Because we were caught from the word ‘Go’! Because nothing we do works, because it all goes to shit, because no one on this fucking colony can let a couple of humans have anything for themselves-” His voice hitched, and a tear fell from his eye.
The Dorarizin gasped softly. “[I… I didn’t…]”
Marc didn’t care. He just started crying.
It was about a minute of that before he felt someone gently lift him up and place him against their fur-covered body. In any other situation, he would’ve immediately pushed himself off and chewed out the xeno responsible. Now, he didn’t even try to resist. A hug was entirely welcome.
“F-fuck, man. What the fuck is that about…”
“[I’m sorry. This, all of this, is my fault completely. I shouldn’t have done this to you.]”
“No, I-I’m being dramatic again.” Marc sniffled, much to his further embarrassment. “I shouldn’t be crying over something this stupid-”
“[Shhhhh. No one’s gonna judge you for crying.]” The Dorarizin, now “Mr. Intruder” in Marc’s mind, chuckled a little bit and gently rocked him in his arms. “[I’m the one who should be embarrassed for trying to sneak into your private venue. That was careless of me.]”
“It was a dick move of you.”
“[Sure, let’s go with that. Although I’m gonna have to update my matrix for ‘Dick Move’.]”
Marc huffed in amusement, wiping his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Guys; we should probably stop doing this and just… go home. This whole thing was kinda pointless when you think about it-”
“[No, NO!]” The Karnakian yelped in concern. She immediately lowered her voice apologetically. “[Sorry, but no. Don’t you dare say that this was pointless.]” She looked up, a spark of determination in her eyes.
“[Maybe I’m being selfish here, but I would honestly be devastated if this project ended now. Do you know how important your message is to the citizens of this colony? Without fail, every time I get to broadcast one of your concerts to someone, their perspective on humans always improves.]” She stood up from her desk, passionately gesturing with her feathers.
“[They get to see this other, more complex side of you all! They get to learn that you’re so much more than just cute! You’re passionate, creative, tenacious, brilliant, all of these things!]”
The Dorarizin grinned. “[I’ve certainly gained a lot more respect for humans.]”
The Jornissian guard shrugged. “[There’s a reason I took this job. I think what you’re doing is too important for us to screw up.]”
Marc absorbed all of this, his confidence slowly growing back. “So… you want us to keep doing this?”
“[Absolutely.]” The Karnakian furiously nodded as she said this. “[In fact, now that we’re both on the same page about this; would you be willing to work with us to help this sort of thing become more widespread?]”
“Y’know what? I’m fine with that; But!” He raised a hand before the Karnakian could say anything. “You have to promise not to creatively stifle us. And that means in all areas. The music, the lyrics, the staging, the pits, the human crowds. That’s our territory, and we don’t need you fiddling with it to make it safer for us. Okay?”
“[That’s… gonna be difficult. And it’s much more than just ‘We think you’re too small to do these things.’ It’s a deep-seated urge not to see any of you endangered. We don’t want anyone getting in over their heads.]”
Before today, Marc would feel insulted by this. But right now, he actually felt a pang of sympathy for the overworked Karnakian in front of him. “And we know that. I know that we can be kinda, well, reckless at times.”
“[That’s one way of putting it,]” The Jornissian huffed.
“Yeah. But in this situation, in this community? We always keep an eye out for ourselves, and for each other. No matter how crazy it gets. It’s a policy that no one should ever be endangered by this. And I assume you’ve seen it for yourself!” Marc grinned. “Any time someone in the crowd is in over their head or endangered, it’s an unspoken rule to help them with anything they need. The music community has had enough instances of this to know not to ignore it by now. We look out for each other. It’s practically our job. And I promise we will make sure it doesn’t become dangerous.”
“[...That’s really good to hear, honestly.]” The two of them smiled at each other. “[Alright, it’s a deal.]”
“Good! Now, I should… I…” His sentence was cut off by him yawning quite loudly.
“Mr. Intruder” chuckled again at this. “[Yeah, I guess you’re getting pretty tired by this point, huh?]”
Marc groaned. “Nooo, you’re not about to enforce a fucking bedtime on me, are you?” He rubbed his eyes to punctuate this statement.
Everyone in the room shared a laugh at that. “Marc, just get some rest already!” Dean chimed in.
“Yeah, dude.” Luke agreed. “You’re literally being held by a big friendly dog, that’s the best time to get some sleep.”
“Oh, fine. If I must!” He chuckled at his own melodrama and yawned again. “Hey, uh… Karnakian lady? I didn’t catch your name.”
“[Oh, my apologies! My name is Rg’Tkelz.]”
“Mm.” Marc realized he had to think of a name that he could actually pronounce. In his sleep-deprived state of mind, all he could think about was her coloring as his eyelids began to close. Yellow and Cream, Cream and Yellow. He sluggishly pointed at her and said “Lemon Pie. That’s what it is…” And with that, he drifted off into a much-needed sleep.
------------
“Goooood evening, motherfuckers!”
The crowd burst into cheers as Marc strode on stage. The fervor was even more justified this time. After all, this was a special day; their first outdoors concert. Marc took the time to scan the audience.
Up front, the pit; humans only, of course. God knows what would happen if a Dorarizin decided to mosh. Behind that, the human seating areas. Behind that, the xeno seating areas. Unlike most seating arrangements separated by who someone is, this one was created based on practicality rather than bigotry. Different ass sizes need different seat sizes. Besides, no human wants the view to be blocked by a giant snake back, no matter how much they liked xenos.
“You guys look hungry, I’m liking this already.” Marc adjusted the microphone, smiling at everyone’s enthusiasm. “Lemon Pie, how’re we sounding back there?” Rg’Tkelz gave him a nod from backstage, indicating that the sound levels were right.
“Now real quick, before we start, I need to talk to some people. Not you guys up front, you’re already familiar with all of this. No, I need to talk to the dudes in the back.” Marc pointed to the xenos, who proceeded to wave with excitement at the four people who were rapidly becoming some of [Sky’s Unmatched Brilliance]’s most famous humans. He recognized “Mr. Intruder’s” dark blue fur in the crowd. His waving seemed the most enthusiastic out of anyone.
“Yeah, yeah, you guys! Now, all my love to you for coming out here tonight and checking out what we’ve got for you. The fact that you even showed up in the first place means you have my respect.”
“But, I’d like to bring to attention the fact that some of you are here for ‘cultural lessons’ on humanity, whatever the hell that means.” He strolled across the stage, carrying the mic with him.
“I’m not holding that against you! I actually admire it. I just think it’s pretty funny that you wanna learn about culture from guys like us, y’know what I mean?” The humans in the pit laughed in agreement.
“Well, if you insist! You want ‘cultural lessons’? I’ve got one lesson for you.” The xenos in the crowd leaned in closer. Marc cackled manically at this.
“You don’t have shit on us. Check this out.” And with a burst of feedback from Dean’s guitar, the band launched into their setlist.
Wegrekahk-of-Ashragh swore he was almost leviating in his seat with joy. And no one blamed him. Sressk’Hsshapn was right next to him, and he seemed fit to launch into the sky as well! This was the biggest moment for any fan of the tiny-chomper band. Finally, a chance to see them perform their magic in-person rather than on a projection in a small room far away.
Looking up at the band members, they seemed so endearing with their jumping and playing their little hearts out. But at the same time, they seemed so mighty and untouchable compared to everyone below! Strange, how those two things could work together. Wegrekahk nudged his friend.
“{Hey.}” Sressk’Hsshapn turned to look at him.
“[What is it?]”
“{Hehe… [Heavy metal], man.}”
“[Heavy metaaal!]” The two friends giggled with glee at the novel tiny-chomper term. They had just enough self-control not to start full-body wiggling at each other.
“{Wait, wait, I just realized!}”
“[What’s going on?]”
“{Shh-shh-shh. Hold on.}” Wegrekahk fiddled with his bead, making sure it was truly attached. Only now had it occurred to him that in-person, he might be able to finally understand the lyrics! Now he just needed no one else to talk for a second.
As Tiny-chomper him-very-screamy slid back up to the mic and began singing with all the passion in the galaxies, Wegrekahk closed his eyes and paid attention. And thankfully, the translator matrix started picking it up. He could hear the lyrics. All of the lyrics.
“{Wait WHAT THE FUCK-}”
------------
THE END