Play The Hits

Chapter 1

The Hits were a rock band from a college town that had gained a strong local following and were starting to do well regionally. They traveled around in a dented old white van that pulled a small trailer and usually got them where they needed to go. Usually. They were a three piece that played a sort of retro rock with some more danceable modern elements thrown in for good measure. All of the members wanted more than anything to be rock stars.

Omar was a dental student who played drums. Matt was a business major who played bass. Tony played guitar and was studying some kind of engineering that no one else could ever remember. Donny, the singer, just happened to live in the town where the college was. He’d graduated high school and immediately started working at the airport. Moving suitcases and packages around all day helped him stay muscular, and he was naturally good looking. It was hard to say how many of their fans came to see them play music and how many of them were just there to watch Donny take his shirt off (which he invariably did when they performed).

The Hits were becoming sort of a big deal. They were being played on the local radio station as well as on stations in other towns in the surrounding area. They had performed on local television and were often referenced in the entertainment section of the local newspapers. Their cheap demo recordings were getting steady numbers on the streaming sites, and they had lots of fan engagement on social media. After a couple of years of investing everything they had and seeing nothing in return, they were finally turning a profit. They were actually making money on merchandise and getting paid enough for their gigs to cover gas and food.

The ultimate dream was a record deal from a real label. Their plan was to save everything they could, pay to record a quality album, and then start shopping it around. If a label liked it and they got signed, then the label would handle the marketing and distribution. They’d get a tour budget and maybe even a chance to work with a big time producer on the next album. More importantly, though, they’d get access to a whole different class of people. Being signed by a big label meant getting to rub shoulders with the tastemakers. No more local tv and radio - they’d be on national tv and podcasts and Youtube shows. Their songs would be on public playlists with millions of followers. All their wildest dreams would come true. That was all in the future, though. First they had to save up enough to record something that would make the labels take notice.

One cool autumn afternoon, Omar, Tony, and Donny all received a text message from Matt saying that he had BIG news and they URGENTLY needed to have a band meeting. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but the guys were always down for getting together to talk about band related business. They all made their way to a local tavern called The Box where they routinely performed on Thursday nights. Everyone else arrived before Matt, and as they sat together on the patio at a long wooden table, they started speculating about the news.

“I hope this isn’t another of those online marketing sales pitches,” said Omar in an annoyed tone. “Pay us $100 and we’ll retweet all your posts for a year. You can expand your online presence to all the other bands we’ve tricked into paying us and exactly no one else!”

The other guys laughed.

“It’s probably another one of those local management companies that wants to charge us $200 a month to book shows with their other artists and help us with development,” said Donny.

“Oh, very interesting,” said Tony. He furrowed his brow and acted like he was reading a contract. “And what exactly would you say development is?”

“Hey,” said Donny, “If they don’t know the answer, why should I?”

The guys laughed again.

Being in a band in 2016 generally meant that about twice a week you would receive an email or social media message from someone promising you a quick path to fame and fortune for only a few hundred dollars a month or year. At first, all of these types of offers had seemed exciting and to be a sign of progress and legitimacy for the band. Now, after wasting more money than they’d care to admit on it, the guys were calloused veterans who were way too smart to be taken in by any scheme. Unless it was a good one, of course. Being in a band in any era generally meant that you were always on the lookout for that one big break that would change everything. Even though the three young musicians were joking about Matt’s news, they also hoped with all their hearts that it was something legitimate.

“But really, where is Matt? If this was so urgent, then why isn’t he here?”

“Seriously,” said Omar. “I’m getting eaten alive by the mosquitos out here.”

Just then Matt arrived, and he was bursting with excitement. He had a beer in one hand and his phone in the other, and as he rushed to sit down at the long table with his bandmates, a small brown insect landed in the middle of his face. While trying to simultaneously talk to them, sit down, and pull up something on his phone, he instinctively tried to swat at his face… with the hand holding his pint. Matt ended up covered in lager, and it was not his best look. Once he calmed down and settled into his seat, he took a deep breath and began to explain what had happened.

“Why are the mosquitoes so bad this year? But anyway, okay, so we got an email on the band account late last night, and I didn’t believe it at first, but I figured it was worth following up, so I did. I had a phone call this morning, and it sounds like everything is legit. I googled the names and phone numbers, and it all lines up. Guys. We got an offer from VTI Records.”

No one said a word. Everyone’s eyes were wide, and they all took turns staring at each other in disbelief. VTI Records was one of the biggest labels in the world. They sponsored awards shows and festivals. Their artists went on world tours and did cameo appearances in movies and hit tv shows. VTI was the real deal. And they were interested in The Hits.

“Well?” asked Matt, breaking the silence. A drop of beer fell from his shaggy hair onto the table.

“Oh my God,” said Omar.

“I don’t even have words,” said Tony.

“HELL YES!” shouted Donny.

“It’s happening!” said Matt.

Then they all simultaneously slapped their own necks.

“MOSQUITOS!” they yelled in annoyed unison.

Chapter 2

The following month was a whirlwind. The band signed their formal contract the day it arrived, and VTI wasted no time in starting to cash in on their newest investment. The Hits were photographed, filmed, and interviewed nearly every day for a week. They had conference calls with managers and producers and marketers and image consultants. They all received new wardrobes, and a new website was launched. They started seeing their own band name everywhere they looked. Someone posted something on their social media channels daily. It was amazing.

Plans for recording the first record were fast tracked. It was decided early on that they would record at the legendary White Chapel studio. White Chapel was a converted church in the middle of nowhere. It was an old building with tall ceilings and great acoustics, and some of the best selling records of all time had been recorded there.

A couple of weeks later, The Hits received more good news. Ed Lilly would be producing the album. The average music fan had never heard of Ed Lilly. The average musician knew exactly who he was. Those in the industry called him King Midas. Everything he’d touched in the last twenty years had turned to gold.

Before they knew it, the first day of recording arrived. In the frosty cold of a midwest winter morning, the band loaded up into their worn out white van and started driving toward White Chapel. The trip started with the usual excitement and energy of a road trip, but as the hours wore on everyone started getting bored and tired and cranky.

“I mean, I heard that this place was out away from everything, but this is crazy,” said Tony. “We haven’t passed a building in at least an hour.”

“For the record, I was the one that said we should have stopped at that last convenience store for beer,” said Donny.

“I just hope we have enough gas to get back,” said Omar.

“We’re only like thirty minutes away,” said Matt. “Stop complaining and get excited! This is what we’ve been waiting for. Thirty minutes from now we start working on the thing that will propel us into the rock star pantheon! Show some appreciation for the moment!”

“It won’t be much of a record if we’re making it without beer,” Donny sulked.

“We’ll figure it out when we get there,” said Omar. “I’m just ready to be done driving.”

Tony let out a condescending laugh from the back of the van. He was looking at his phone and was clearly entertained.

“What’s up?” asked Matt.

“We just got an email from some no name photographer offering to shoot our next show for ONLY $400.”

“Links to his work?”

“Nope. He’s apparently just getting started.”

“Ridiculous,” said Donny.

“Well, it’s awfully nice that he’s willing to do us such a tremendous favor by offering such a discount,” said Matt with extreme sarcasm.

“AH!” yelled Tony from the back of the bus.

Everyone turned around to see what had happened. He was scratching his arm furiously.

“Mosquito in the van.”

Chapter 3

The sun was just starting to set behind some distant hills as the van pulled into the White Chapel parking lot. It was on a small plot surrounded by farmland in every direction. In addition to the church, there was a small house with a garage that had obviously been built much more recently on the other side of the parking lot. Everything there had a worn, rustic look. The short fence that surrounded the property looked to be made out of gnarled driftwood even though there wasn’t a river anywhere in sight. At dusk, the long shadows made everything look tired.

“I expected something grander,” said Donny as he hopped out of the van.

“It’s what’s inside that counts, I guess,” said Tony. “Where is everyone?”

They had been told to arrive by five o’clock in the evening. It was currently half past, but by musician standards, that practically made them early.

“Dunno,” said Matt. “Let’s find out.”

Matt walked up to the church entrance and tried the doors. No luck. He knocked and listened, but no one seemed to be around. He walked around to the side and tried to look through the windows, but they all had dark curtains covering them from the inside. As far as he could tell, there the lights were out, and there was no sound. He walked over to the house on the other side of the parking lot and knocked on the door there too. No answer.

By then, the sun was threatening to disappear entirely.

“It gets dark so early now,” said Omar.

“Yeah. Let’s go ahead and unload while we can still see,” said Matt. “We can put our gear on the raised area by the church entrance, and then once everyone else gets here, we won’t have to take it far.”

They guys settled into the routine of unloading. This was something they’d done hundreds of times before, and it didn’t take a lot of thinking. By the time they got done, it was completely dark. No one was talking. Everyone was thinking about what this meant. Had they been forgotten? Tricked? What would they do if no one showed up? Was think some kind of hazing? How long should they wait before getting back on the road and trying to find a hotel?

As Omar pulled the last bag from the van, floodlights above the entrance of the church came to life and illuminated the parking lot.

“Hello!” someone called.

The guys in the band shielded their eyes and tried to see past the glare of the floodlights. There were three shadowy figures walking toward them from the church entrance.

“Have you been here long? We’ve been sound checking and didn’t hear you arrive,” said a deep voice.

“Not too long,” said Matt, stepping forward. “We were worried we’d come at the wrong time.”

“Not at all. Come on inside.”

All three of the men who greeted them were tall, thin, and pale. They all had black hair and dark eyes and were dressed fashionably in dark colors. All three of them were all older, but none of the band members could come up with an accurate guess as to how old any of them actually were. They had the air of seasoned veterans who had been through this process a million times before. While they all maintained a casual and laid back attitude, the boys from the band had a clear impression that these were not the type of men whose time they should waste.

One of the men was slightly taller than the other two. His name was Silas, and he worked in A&R for VTI. A&R was the department responsible for discovering bands, judging their profitability, and then signing them to a contract. Silas had been on the other end of the initial phone call with Matt that had set everything in motion. He seemed to be the most sociable of the three.

Ed Lilly, the famous producer, was slightly shorter and slightly less slender. He wore sunglasses at all times and seemed to be intently focused on something else. He wasn’t unpleasant, but he barely spoke beyond introducing himself as The Hits loaded in their gear and luggage.

The third man was named Thaddeus, and he was the recording engineer. Thaddeus had worked with Ed on dozens of albums over the years, and they seemed very comfortable with each other. Thaddeus was the thinnest of the three and had shoulder length straight black hair. He was the main director of traffic as the band brought their gear inside and wasted no time in getting things set up and starting to position microphones and sound dampening panels around the room.

The sanctuary of the church had been converted to a large recording space. There was a control room off to one side in the back where the sound board, a computer, and lots of strange looking electronic devices were housed. The pews had all been removed, and most of the walls were covered with thick flowing curtains. The floors were covered in thick shag carpet, and there were microphone cables and stands, extension cords, surge protectors, and instrument cables everywhere. There was no overhead lighting but rather a dozen or more lamps around the perimeter of the room.

Once all of the instruments and amplifiers had been moved inside and placed in roughly the right place, Silas told the band members to gather their luggage and follow him while Ed and Thaddeus finished setting up the recording space. Along the back of the old church was a long hallway with several rooms. The rooms were all small - they looked as if they had been designed as offices and storage rooms initially but how now been converted into bedrooms. At the far end, though, was a slightly larger room with a fireplace, a kitchenette, a couple of couches facing an old tv, and two adjoining bathrooms, each with a shower.

“Welcome to your home for the next three weeks,” said Silas. “Please make yourselves comfortable. The kitchenette is currently stocked with an assortment of food and drinks. If you have any particular requests, just write them down on the notepad there on the refrigerator, and we’ll have them delivered. You can work out amongst yourselves who gets what room, and then meet up back in the studio once you’re settled.”

After he left, the guys rifled through the kitchenette. It had been well stocked indeed. Along with enough food and snacks to feed them all for a week, the fridge was loaded with beer, and there was hard liquor in the cabinets.

“These guys know how to party!” said Tony..

“No kidding!” said Matt.

“I want the room closest to this spot,” said Omar.

“Too late!” called Donny, who was already in the nearest bedroom.

Omar stopped in his room to drop off his luggage. He accidentally dropped his phone, and when he bent down to pick it up, he noticed what looked like bloodstains on the carpet under the bed.

“Probably just paint or coffee,” he though.

Chapter 4

Once the band members had worked out who would stay in which room, they made their way back to the main studio. Silas, Ed, and Thaddeus seemed to be having an intense conversation but abruptly went silent when the band entered. Based on previous experience, The Hits all looked to Silas for further instruction. To their mild surprise, however, it was Ed who spoke next.

“Congratulations. You have been signed by one of the biggest record labels of all time. VTI decided that you have what it takes to be superstars. Of the thousands of bands around the world, you have been chosen as one that matters. I am being paid an absurd amount of money to help you create an album that will be heard by millions. This is not my first rodeo. You, as the artists, have a lot of work to do. The next three weeks will be very intense. You will not all be needed at all times and are encouraged to relax and unwind in whatever ways you prefer when you are not doing something that’s being recorded. That said, though, there are some house rules here at White Chapel.”

Ed paused to let his words sink in. The band members tried to convey a general sense of compliance. Matt discretely set the beer he was holding on top of an amp behind him and then crossed his arms. Silas and Thaddeus both seemed lost in thought.

“There are only a few rules here,” continued Ed. “First, you must not leave the property. We are here on a short timeline with a lot of work to do, and the last thing anyone wants is for you not to be available when you’re needed. Second, I don’t care what you do to relax in your free time, but when it’s your turn to perform, you must be ready. Staying hydrated is key. In your refrigerator, you will find a lot of bottles of a product called Recharge. You absolutely must drink at least two of them a day. The third rule is a bit more… sensitive.”

The band members looked at eachother uncomfortably.

“Do any of you smoke?” asked Ed.

“No way,” said Omar.

“Terrible for you,” said Donny.

“Filthy habit,” said Matt.

Ed paused for a moment and then said “Not tobacco.”

“Oh,” said the band members in unison.

“Yeah, we do that,” said Tony.

“I assumed,” said Ed. “Thank for being honest with me. A lot of musicians do it as a way to calm the nerves and turn the anxiety down a notch. I’m afraid, though, that I can’t have you doing that indoors here. I also can’t have you running in and out of the studio when we’re trying to get things accomplished, and after a certain point it hurts productivity anyway. That said, we have another solution.”

Silas pulled four prescription bottles out of his jacket pocket. They were each half full of white pills but didn’t have labels. He handed one to each band member.

“You’ll notice that these have the same calming effects but without any slowing of the motor skills or feeling lethargic. Basically, you’ll just feel really calm and good. Any night before a day when you’re scheduled to record, you need to take one of these before you go to bed. I know this probably seems weird, but trust me. It’s a tried and true technique that works. I discovered these about ten years ago, and no one’s had a bad time on them yet.”

The band guys glanced at each other nervously. No one was quite sure what to say.

“Ed might be exaggerating a little bit when he says the pills are one of the rules,” said Silas, noticing the uncertainty. “The main thing is just that you guys need to be mindful of you mental and physical states while here. We just want to make sure that you’re all able to fully realize your vision for the songs during this limited time that we have. If any of you don’t like the pills, you absolutely don’t have to keep taking them. All we ask is that you at least try them tonight and see how it goes tomorrow.”

The mood seemed to lighten.

“So what does tomorrow look like?” asked Matt.

“Tomorrow will be a full band first draft of all the songs,” said Ed. “Basically I’ll have you all set up in here, and we’ll sound check and get levels and then do a rough recording of each song. We’ll use those rough recordings as our guides for the rest of the time you’re here. We’ll start at noon and then go for probably ten or eleven hours.”

“It’ll be a long day,” said Silas. “So get plenty or rest tonight. And don’t be afraid to unwind a little. It’d be a shame to spend three weeks in the studio and not have any fun. Oh, and dinner should be here any time.”

Chapter 5

Several hours later, The Hits were hanging out in the common room. Dinner had ended up being an assortment of chinese dishes that had been delivered almost as soon as they finished talking to Ed, Silas, and Thaddeus. The VTI guys didn’t stick around, though. They were staying in the house next to the studio and disappeared as soon as the food arrived.

The band members were each several beers in and were discussing the general state of things.

“Those guys were pretty intense,” said Tony.

“It’s all just posturing,” said Matt. “They just wanted to mark their territory early so we’d know who was in charge.”

“They seem to know what they’re doing,” said Omar. “I’m curious what they’ll be like to work with. If they’ll try to change things.”

“I’m sure they will,” said Matt. “But for the better. This is what we need to get to the next level.”

“But what if we get through all this and it doesn’t sound like us?” asked Omar.

“What do you mean?” asked Tony.

“Well, like, they seem very confident and to know what they want. They’re in control and have all the power here. What if they keep changing things a little bit and a little bit more until it doesn’t sound like us anymore?”

“Dude, you’re drunk,” said Donny who was clearly drunk. “You’re already playing the tortured artist, and we haven’t even cashed in yet. I’m sure if they suggest anything, it’ll probably be for the best, and we can always say no. We’re the talent.”

The guys laughed and changed the subject. They talked politics. They talked philosophy. They talked about the future. And they also talked a lot about their songs. While they definitely had enough for an album, the songs weren’t technically “done”. There were still several parts that had never really felt solid and some transitions that didn’t always hit. And a few parts where Donny just made up something different to sing each time. Oh well, they had three weeks, and that seemed like plenty of time.

At about half past one in the morning, the guys decided to go to bed.

“So are we gonna take these pills first?” asked Matt.

The guys all looked at each other. Omar and Tony seemed to have a lot of doubts. Matt picked up his bottle and looked at the little pills.

“Don’t be cowards,” said Donny. He popped a pill in his mouth and washed it down with the last of his bottle of Recharge before walking down the hall to his bedroom.

Just before he got to his room, Donny grabbed his neck and yelled “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

The guys all looked at him in alarm.

“Where do these mosquitoes keep coming from?” Donny complained as he disappeared into his bedroom.

Tony, Matt, and Omar looked at each other one last time and then shrugged and downed their pills.

If any of them had looked out the window behind them, they might have noticed the tall, dark figure that had been watching them from outside for the last hour.

Chapter 6

The next day was a lot. The musicians rolled out of bed at around ten and found breakfast waiting for them in the common room. They took turns eating and showering and then assembled in the recording room a little before noon. Ed, Silas, and Thaddeus were already there.

“Good morning,” said Silas pleasantly. “I hope you slept well.”

“Definitely,” said Matt. “This place is great. And thanks for all the food. We’re all going to have to start exercising, or we’ll look puffy in our press shots after this.”

Silas laughed politely, and Thaddeus smiled in a way that seemed out of place. Everyone in the band noticed it, but no one said anything. Thaddeus had barely spoken since they arrived, and no one was quite sure how to read him.

Ed directed things the rest of the day, and it was intense. He had everyone take their places with their instruments and start playing a song. Each band member had their own set of headphones that connected to a small mixer that let them adjust what they could hear. Ed had a microphone in the control booth that was also present in the headphones, so he was able to talk to them as needed.

They played each song over and over. After each take, Ed would give instructions, and Thaddeus would adjust microphones. Normally band practice for The Hits went for about three hours, and they were exhausted afterward. In the studio, though, they never seemed to tire. They were on point and generally having fun. At one point during a bathroom break, Tony commented on it to Matt.

“Studio juice!” said Matt. “And maybe those pills a little bit. Do you feel okay? Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, actually,” said Tony. “I slept great, and I feel really good today. Just like calm and ready for anything, you know?”

“Same here,” said Matt. “Maybe we can get some of those to go when we leave!”

After dinner, the group reconvened in the studio, and Ed gave further direction.

“Okay guys, we’re off to a good start. I think we’re in good shape on the levels and mics, but I’ll listen to the demo tracks tonight with fresh ears and see if there’s anything that seems off. With the rest of our time today, I want to work on some of those shaky parts.”

He then proceeded to list all of the parts that the band knew weren’t “done” yet.

“Guitar and bass, you guys come in here for a while and let’s work on the bridge of that second track. There’s something that’s not working between what the two of you are playing. Drums and vocals, you can take five.”

Omar and Donny sat on the couch in the common room and put their feet up on the coffee table.

“Today has been a lot,” said Omar.

“Yes, it has,” said Donny. He hopped up and went to the refrigerator and took a beer.

“Isn’t that bad for your vocals?” asked Omar.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Donny. “We’re not recording anything lasting today anyway.”

“True,” said Omar. “How are you feeling about it all so far.”

“Fine,” said Donny. “The hard parts are yet to come, I guess.”

Donny absentmindedly rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and was about to say something else when Omar interrupted.

“Dude, what happened to your arm?” he asked.

Donny looked down and saw two large welts on his forearm.

“Ugh,” he said. “That mosquito got me good last night.”

“Are you sure?” asked Omar. “That looks kind of bad.”

“It’s nothing,” said Donny. “I was probably scratching it in my sleep. It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

“DRUMS AND VOCALS, YOU’RE UP!” they heard from down the hall.

The rest of the day was tedious. They worked until after ten o’clock on minute details of the songs, sometimes only one or two measures at a time. When Ed finally told them they were done for the day, the guys were all exhausted. They went back to the common room and drank but didn’t say much. All four of them sipped beer or mixed drinks and looked at their phones. They all snacked on what they could find in the well-stocked kitchen, and about an hour after midnight, they each took a pill and went to bed.

The dark observer outside the window smiled, white teeth gleaming in the moonlight.

Chapter 7

After that first day, everything began to blur together. Most of the first week was fine tuning. It started with the parts that weren’t quite “done” and then moved on to other parts of the songs. Ed instructed them to “make this chord change more interesting” and “not do that part so often so that it’s more meaningful when you do” and “shorten that part” a lot. Even at that, things seemed to progress well, but then they hit a roadblock when it came to the vocals. Ed felt strongly about the way that the vocals would fall over the rhythm in certain parts, and Donny had a really hard time grasping with what he was saying. The band played the same parts over and over and over while Donny tried different things. It lasted for hours or maybe days.

At the end of the first week, frustration levels were high, and the grind of the studio was taking a toll. The guys in the band were all looking a little skinner and paler than when they started. They were getting dark circles under their eyes despite sleeping almost ten hours per night. By that time, they were playing the songs with no emotion or thought in the background as Donny and Ed battled to “fix” the lyrics.

On the seventh day, though, as they wrapped up for the night, Ed came out of the control booth and said “Well, I think we’re ready.”

Everyone stopped in surprise.

“Ready for what?” asked Matt.

“Tomorrow we start recording for real,” said Ed.

Everyone was elated. The mood improved noticeably as they guys started walking toward the common room to celebrate. Omar hung back and walked toward Ed, Silas, and Thaddeus. They seemed surprised but not displeased.

“Hey guys,” said Omar. “Thanks for everything. This has been a really great experience, and we really appreciate you working with us and all the food and everything… but is there any way you could do something about the mosquitos?”

They all just stared at him.

“They’re really bad back there,” continued Omar. “We’re getting eaten alive at night. Normally I’d just drive out and get some bug spray, but you mentioned that we weren’t supposed to leave the property…”

Omar rolled up his right sleeve and showed a cluster of puffy bumps on his forearms.

“Oh wow,” said Silas. “That’s a new one. I’ll have someone come out and spray. Thanks for letting us know.”

Thaddeus smiled that same strange smile.

“Thanks,” said Omar, and then he hesitated.

“Anything else?” asked Silas.

“Well… we’re almost out of pills.”

“Oh! Right!” said Silas. “I have your refills here.”

He went to his satchel and pulled out a white paper bag with four plastic bottles inside. Omar took them, thanked Silas, and then rejoined his bandmates.

The next morning, slightly after sunrise, Tony woke up with a desperate need to use the bathroom. He was staying the furthest from the common area, so he had to walk all the way down the hall to get there. After he did his business, he walked back to his room. As he did, he could have sworn he heard noises from inside the studio. Surely the VTI guys weren’t already in there. He was half asleep, though, so he didn’t think much more about it.

Chapter 8

The actual recording was a blur. Time seemed to be passing faster than the guys could keep track of. Ed was running them ragged. They were playing the songs over and over. They were playing tiny parts of the songs over and over. They were adding second guitar and bass parts. Breaks were few and far between. Ed was the general, and they were the soldiers who took orders without questions.

The guys were talking less and less. By the time they were done with recording each night, it was all they could do to drink their Recharge, down a pill, and go to bed. They lost all track of time and space. They felt stuck in a loop. And the mosquitoes were just getting worse.

One night four or five days after the real recording started, Ed surprised them all by saying that they would be done for the day when they broke for dinner. He claimed to have an errand to run and that they were ahead of schedule anyway, so the guys should take the evening to rest. Time off for good behavior. Everyone was surprised, but no one complained.

The guys went back to the common room to find lots of pizza. They proceeded to get fabulously drunk. The old tv only got a few channels, but one of them was playing a marathon of old horror movies, so they left that on in the background. The guys laughed and joked and played drinking card games. They started talking about life outside the studio again. Upcoming tours. Future records. All the money they’d make.

In the middle of the night Tony woke up and had no idea where he was. The only lights in the room were coming from the old tv. He was on the couch in the common room. Bela Lugosi played Dracula on the small screen in front of him. Tony was still a little drunk and desperately needed to pee. He went to the bathroom and then started to stumble toward his bedroom. He heard the bottle of pills rattle in his pocket and realized he’d forgotten to take one. And to drink his Recharge. He grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator and proceeded down the hall.

He immediately noticed that Donny’s bedroom door was open, which was weird because Donny had a thing about that. He reached out to pull the door shut for his friend but froze in his tracks. Illuminated only by the faint moonlight coming in through the window, Tony could barely see Silas crouched next to Donny’s bed. His eyes were completely black, and his teeth were dug into Donny’s forearm. Thick dark blood was on his lips, and he made a ravenous slurping sound.

Silas jumped and hissed as he saw Tony. He seemed somehow taller. And his eyes... They didn’t look human.

“What.. what’s going on here?” asked Tony as he stumbled backward. “Guys! Help!”

He saw motion coming from Omar and Matt’s rooms, but his hope turned to horror as his eyes adjusted and he saw what was happening. Thaddeus and Ed were there, walking toward him. Their bloody lips were pulled back revealing sharp, pointed teeth. Their eyes were black. Tony couldn’t decide what to do, but it didn’t matter. Silas grabbed him from behind.

“Someone forgot to take their pill, I see,” he hissed.

Thaddeus chuckled as he stuffed a handful of pills in Tony’s mouth and then held it closed and pinched his nose. Tony fought, but his only option was to swallow. Before long he felt himself losing consciousness. He wouldn’t remember anything the next day.

Silas dropped Tony’s unconscious body to the floor and laughed.

“Been a while since we had one of those,” he said.

“Yes,” said Ed. “This group seems to have an unending supply of ways to annoy me.”

“How’s their playing?” asked Silas. “I never know.”

“Atrocious,” said Ed. “But I had the album that we’ll release for them programmed before they ever got here. We’ll use some of the vocal samples over it, but we don’t really need them to do anything. I mean, it’s 2016. Did anyone believe VTI was actually going to release a rock record?”

The three VTI guys chuckled.

“Making them pretend is a great way to grow your control over them, though,” said Silas.

“You’re a master, Ed,” said Thaddeus.