Moses once again met the masked guitarist on the bridge between their stages. As they approached each other, Mo said in a low voice audible to only the guitarist, “That wasn’t bad, kinda blended in though.”
He then spoke up into the microphone and addressed the crowd. “One song remains, you have the call,” turning his attention to the masked guitarist.
“Tails,” he said in a raspy voice before Mo had even flipped the coin.
“Alright,” Mo shrugged as he flipped the quarter and watched it turn over and over in the air. He caught it in a fist and opened it, revealing a shimmering head in the fading rays of daylight. Mo grinned from ear to ear as he said loudly and gleefully “Your turn, man!”
As the masked guitarist turned to stalk away, Mo stopped him, turning the microphone off for a second. “Hey,” he said, stopping the masked guitarist dead in his tracks and forcing him to turn around to face him. “Let’s see it,” he said, a challenging glint in his eye.
He then turned and made for his stage, leaving the guitarist to stand there for a second before heading back toward his stage to join Bloody Demon. As Mo returned to his stage, he shot Lee a grin spreading from ear to ear. Lee beamed back and mouthed the words “we got ‘em” as Mo approached. When Mo reached Lee’s drum set they heard, coming distinctly and unmistakably from the speakers, the eerie introductory screeches accompanied by the deafening bass. Though before it had not seemed possible, Mo’s face lit up even more as he cheered along with the rest of the crowd.
The song started out slowly and simply. Bloody Demon’s choice of song seemed to be based solely on its weight and it’s intended effect to strike awe into the crowd. The size of the band, as NoCal had hoped, lent itself horribly to the song. They proceeded through it much as could be expected, with their distinct layering style. They also made use of both Anne and the other lead vocalist, mimicking Korn’s collaboration with Amy Lee. As the song proceeded the crowd bobbed and nodded intently, waiting for the infamous breakdown.
As the song took a turn about two and a half minutes in, the vocalists broke apart and started chanting and convulsing unsettlingly. After about thirty seconds of chanting, the song reached it’s climax. Here the guitars were meant to converge and overwhelm the audience with a unified beat designed to shatter spinal cords.
As the band (with the obvious exception of the drummer) leapt into the air to emphasize the blast, the masked guitarist seemed to see his moment to shine. As the rest of Bloody Demon prepared to bow in sync, he set off on a solo, seeming frantically determined to melt the faces off of the crowd. The chaos that ensued on stage was far from the coordinated lethality of their prior shows.
NoCal watched with elation as both of the other two guitarists stopped and stared at the masked guitarist, who seemed not to have warned anybody of his modification. The lead vocalist strode up to the masked guitarist and muttered what were clearly distinguishable vulgarities to him as he proceeded with his solo. The bass player stopped playing altogether and made a slitting motion across his neck with his thumb as he glared at the guitarist. Even the drummer missed a couple beats as their song seemed to crumble before the eyes of the entire audience, who had gone relatively motionless, with the exception of a few metal fingers fluttering in the air.
After a good fifteen seconds of chaos, Bloody Demon seemed to recuperate and finished out their song with what little unity was left. The crowd gave a delayed applause, not fully understanding what had happened. Being done with the song, the band seemed to turn on the masked guitarist, surrounding him in what didn’t look to be a friendly huddle. Anne was the only one who seemed not to be livid, and she shot a glance over at NoCal’s stage, locking eyes with Lee with an amused expression for a split second before turning back to the chaos.
“Are you ready to stick the knife in?” Mo asked, grinning from ear to ear. There was nothing standing between them and their victory over Bloody Demon.
Lee smiled back confidently, “I was born ready.”
As Mo walked slowly to his place at the front of the stage, he looked over in between the two stages and a light flickered across his face. As he approached his microphone stand he began to play a high introduction that could easily have been mistaken for a solo itself. The crowd roared in recognition, desperately hoping that NoCal would deliver on what they had come to expect as the greatest rock show of their lives.
• • •
“No way, they’re gonna play ‘Sidewinder’?” exclaimed a girl as she jumped with the crowd, who now had a resurgence of energy.
“They actually sound really good!” her friend yelled back over the din.
Mo was commanding the crowd with his guitar, switching between the lead and rhythm guitar parts stylistically, transitioning between the two with a certain mastery. As he milked his guitar there seemed to be nothing standing in NoCal’s way.
“I wonder what they’re gonna do for the end of the song,” said the girl amusedly. “I bet whatever they have planned is ridiculous…”
“Oh I’m sure it will be,” her friend replied. Their conversation was suddenly broken up by a spontaneous mosh pit that broke out not five feet from where the girls stood.
On the opposite stage, Bloody Demon looked on in horror as NoCal gained momentum. Like a juggernaut they rumbled on with out so much as a stumble.
• • •
After just under three minutes, Lee began rolling rapidly across his drum set as the song seemed to pick up. They then broke out onto a completely new level, thundering along in perfect sync just in time for another solo.
As Mo knocked out the rapid notes flawlessly, the crowd seemed to burst through an unseen barrier, reaching a whole new decibel level. There was no question now who the Kings of the Pacific were. The only thing left to be seen was what else could possibly happen before the song was over.
When they entered again into the chorus, there came faintly through the speakers an invisible acoustic guitar backing up Moses. The support wasn’t glaring and it seemed to only occur to a few people in the audience. They played through the winding chorus and as Mo struck the final chord the audience erupted in a surprised cheer, nearly drowning out even Lee.
Jordan came striding out on to the stage, strumming chords on an acoustic guitar that was amped. He strummed quickly, keeping up a steady beat as Mo struck one final chord on his electric guitar. As Mo struck the echoing chord, Lee, who had stopped drumming, launched both of his drum sticks out into the crowd. Now having no sticks, Lee began creating a beat to Jordan’s strumming with his bare hands, utilizing the entirety of his drum set (most notably the turtle shells and his bongos). His knuckles and palms flew across his drum set as he nodded, keeping time with his feet.
As Lee threw his drum sticks and began beating tribally on the drums, Moses set his electric guitar on the floor of the stage and produced an acoustic one that had been concealed behind the speaker at the front of the stage, plugging it into the cord from his electric. NoCal’s shift came so suddenly that the crowd at first was silent, pondering what had just happened. As Lee struck up his beat, however, they understood and cheered. Not a voice on the pier (except for Bloody Demon’s) was silent.
“Stay inside tonight,” Moses sang melodically as they carried on their tribal beat. After awhile Mo began to pluck tabs from his acoustic guitar, adding another element entirely to their song. He was in a sort of zone and as he began into Synyster Gates’ legendary acoustic solo, his fingers were at total ease. He seemed to break through to an entirely new level of performance and as he continued to nail every note of the solo his fingers glided across the neck of the acoustic guitar so mesmerizingly that even Anne and a couple other members of Bloody Demon held up their metal fingers, waving them rapidly in approval.
He continued to milk the captivating noise from the guitar and by the end of his solo he stared out at a sea of hands, all outstretched and hailing, fingers waving approvingly. It was a long few minutes before the crowd seemed to bring itself under
control. As Lee left his drum set for the first time all night and came to stand before the crowd next to Moses and Jordan, the three were approached, this time by Anne as she made her way delicately across the bridge and on to their stage.
“Well, I guess we won’t even have to ask who the new Kings of the Pacific are…” she said in a congratulatory tone. “Let’s give it up for NoCal! Moses, Lee, and…” she paused as she looked questioningly at Jordan.
“Umm… Jordan,” he said.
Anne nodded in approval and spoke again into the microphone. “I give you the Kings of the Pacific,” she addressed the crowd, producing an ancient looking crown and handing it to Moses.
The crown had an artifactual quality to it. It seemed to be carved out of an aged wood riddled with complex designs burnt into it. The crown was essentially a band with five crests pointing upwards, each endowed with a murky looking black stone.
The sun was nearing the ocean now, casting an orange light on the stage. Moses took the mask and turned towards the audience, suddenly realizing how many people were in attendance. He stood there, eyes wandering, thinking of what to say.
“Erm…” he began in a humbly nervous voice. “Thanks.”
Somebody from the crowd shouted, “Put it on!”
Mo began again, as if
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