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Description
July 3, 1988; Los Angeles, California

Tim and Jen had arrived back in Los Angeles the next evening. And the very first place they ran to was the music competition. They cursed their luck as they saw it had already started. They could hear the cheering crowds inside screaming their approval of the thundering music that reverberated all the way to the streets.

“No time for auditions,” Jen said. “We'll have to sneak in!”

“You sure that's a good idea?”

Tim turned and saw his sister was already picking the lock to the back entrance. He rolled his eyes and silently laughed. Of course.

Jen got the door open and she ushered him inside with their guitars. They quietly snuck past security and slipped backstage where all the other musicians were packing up their gear.

“Damn, seems like we're the last ones,” Tim said.

“Just means we'll leave the crowd with the best act!” Jen said. “Come on quick! The band onstage is finishing up!”

They rushed to the stage steps where an announcer was waiting patiently to step onto stage and send off the show. He looked over at the siblings as they rushed up to him.

“Huh? I thought these guys were the last act?” he said, scratching his head.

“They were,” Jen said, “but the production studio made a last minute switch and added us in because ratings or some crap.”

“You've gotta be kiddin’ me!” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why does no one ever tell me when this happens? Alright fine, do your thing. I guess I'll have to improvise one more introduction. What's your band name?”

“Our band name?” Tim said, earning him an elbow in the side from Jen. “Ow!”

“We're the Thunderbirds!” Jen said.

“Really?” the announcer said. “If you say so.”

The band that was playing walked past them as they carried their instruments offstage and left their audience cheering. The announcer looked at the siblings.

“Alright ‘Thunderbirds’, you're up I guess. Hop onstage once I give you your cue. You'd better be good.” And then he turned and walked onto stage to do his thing.

“Thunderbirds?” Tim asked.

“I don't know, man. It sounded cool to me.”

“That's lame.”

“You're lame. Do you have the Pick?”

Tim smiled and nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the Piece of Eden in question. It glowed bright gold in his hands.

“Awesome!” Jen exclaimed. “This is gonna be so sweet, dude!”

“It’d better be. Come on let's go! He's introducing us!”

The two grabbed their guitars and rushed onto the stage, being greeted by an enormous crowd of people eager to have their eardrums blasted out by some incredible music.

“-without further ado, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer preached to the crowd. “The Thunderbirds!”

The crowd cheered as the announcer vanished behind the corner and the Spainhower siblings took center stage with their instruments.

“Hello Los Angeles!” Jen yelled into the mic. “Get ready for the tune of your life!”

The crowd cheered in response. The siblings stepped up with their guitars. Tim held the pick high as the speakers revved up. He smiled, looking into the crowd of cheering people. This was his dream. This was what he always wanted. He grinned ear to ear. He brought his hand down towards the strings, about to seize his moment, and-

Bang!

The gunshot rang throughout the air. Tim felt his hand jerk back as a bullet struck the Pick and send it spiraling out of his hands. The crowd started screaming in terror. Tim and Jen’s eyes widened as they saw dozens of armed Templar thugs marching in from every exit and blocking anyone from leaving. They stepped back a bit. Tim frantically looked for the Pick, unfortunately spotting it a bit too late. He gasped as a new figure, tall, dark, and sleek, walked up onto the stage. He bent down and gently picked up the Pick from the floor. It glowed maliciously in his hands. The air around it warped and cracked like glass. He turned toward the crowd, grabbing a microphone as he did. He looked at the audience, his glare so intense he seemingly looked straight into all of their eyes at once. With one deep breath, he shouted, “Shut up!” And sure enough, the crowd went silent with fear.

He grinned and chuckled, looking back towards the two teens. “Sorry kiddos,” he said. “I'm afraid the concert has to be cancelled.”

“Morgenster!” Jen scowled, her fists clenching.

“Oh you remembered my name! How nice.”

“Give us back the Pick and let these people go!” Tim demanded.

“Hmmmm no.”

Jen flicked out her hidden blade. Morgenster responded by rolling his eyes and holding the Pick high. It glowed brighter and pulsed as the cracks in spacetime grew larger and larger. The wind kicked up, blowing fliers all over the place and inspiring more panic in the crowd.

“You don't get it, kids,” Morgenster taunted. “I've won. I've got what I came for and now I’m going to carry out my plans! Your world is doomed!”

He started laughing maniacally, the Pick pulsing along with the sound of his voice. Tim and Jen watched in horror, and then Jen puffed up her chest and stepped forward.

“I have an offer!” she announced.

“Jen what are you doing?” Tim panicked.

“Shush. I know what I'm doing!” She turned back towards Morgenster, holding up her guitar. “Rock-Off! You against us! Winner gets the Pick, loser leaves.”

That made Morgenster pause and stare, and then start laughing again.

“Uh huh,” he said, wiping an amused tear from his eye. “And why the hell would I accept any challenge from you? I've won. I'm unstoppable!”

“If you're so unstoppable then why are you afraid of losing?”

“I'm not afraid of losing.”

“Then come on, you chicken! Take up the challenge. Prove that you've got something between those torn-up pant legs.”

Morgenster’s expression shifted. He gave a hesitant smile. “Alright,” he said. “Fine. I'll amuse you before I go off to annihilate this world.” He held the Pick to the side, shifting the cracks. He reached inside and pulled out what looked like a jagged, golden guitar. He wrapped the strap around his shoulder and held it alongside the Pick, grinning as he stared his opponents down. He hopped up on one of the speakers for dramatic effect. “Prepare to be utterly annihilated, kids,” he smirked.

“Yeah? Well you're about to be ass-kickingly surprised!” Jen said as she and her hesitant brother stepped forward with their own instruments. “Cause we're the best there's ever been!”

Morgenster simply grinned. He held the Pick high. “We'll see about that,” he gloated. And then he thrust his hand down, and plucked the first string.

The sound blasted out of the speakers, knocking the siblings over in a shockwave that reverberated throughout the stage. The strings on his guitar glowed and pulsed as he started strumming one of the most intense melodies that the siblings had ever heard. The Pick fluttered across the strings at speeds that seemed completely impossible. The notes carried throughout the room, echoing and dancing with each other. Sparks started to leap from Morgenster’s flittering fingers, sparks which quickly turned into massive energy bolts that surged forward and threatened to fry the siblings. Tim and Jen lunged out of the way, hopping onto the speakers and leaping around the stage in an attempt not to get burnt to a crisp.

“Hey that's cheating!” Jen protested as the bolts came.

“Oh I'm sorry,” Morgenster taunted as he played, “are you not talented enough to send lightning bolts out of your guitar? So sad.”

“You're a di-!” She was cut off by another bolt which she dodged by rolling back to the floor. She stood next to her brother and they scowled at their foe, who just smiled as he twiddled his strings in a flawless melody.

“He's too good…” Tim said. “We'll never beat him!”

“Not with that attitude!” Jen declared. She grabbed her guitar and started strumming in defense. The sound blasted out of her speakers. Tim quickly followed her lead, pulling up his guitar and gliding his fingers across the strings to fight against the melody that Morgenster was putting out. They managed to push him back a bit with the force of their sound, but he held his ground, and continued his flawless tune. He plucked hard on his strings, blasting more bolts in their direction. The siblings ducked and dodged and jammed back with riffs of their own, the two songs dancing around each other in an ocean of rock.

Morgenster scowled as he continued to miss his targets. “Stand still, dammit!” he said as he played.

“Oh I'm sorry,” Tim said. “Are you not talented enough to hit a couple of moving targets?”

Morgenster grit his teeth and played his instrument faster, his hands becoming a glowing blur against the strings. The speakers behind him pulsed and bounced as they let out soundwave after soundwave that nearly knocked the two siblings off their feet. The two continued their dance, however, hopping around the speakers and rafters. They started laughing, beginning to have fun in this battle of the bands, succeeding in pissing off Morgenster even more. They danced to their own songs, sliding and spinning as their speakers pushed the Templar back and threw him off his aim. They played higher and lower and did the one thing that their opponent didn't: they put passion into their music. They put their hearts and souls into their livelihood.

And that was the greatest advantage of all.

Morgenster struggled to play as the noise threatened to thrust him backwards off his feet. Even his hands started to falter, his flawless moves tripping over beats. Tim and Jen smiled. They played and played, the music filling the air, the notes booming out the speakers, the rock wowing the crowd. Morgenster struggled, each note pushing him farther and farther off balance. He grit his teeth as his boots slid against the floor. His hands flew back from his instrument, and eventually he found he couldn't hold on any longer. He tipped over, getting launched backwards into a pile of equipment. The Pick of Eden flew out of his hands on impact, flying across the stage, directly towards Tim. Tim gasped, seeing his chance. He held his hand up, fingers outstretched. The artifact fell straight towards him, getting closer and closer and closer…

And then he grabbed it.

It glowed in his hands like a sword just pulled from a stone. Its energy surged through his arm and his body, even giving his guitar a halo of golden light. He looked to his sister, who was grinning. He looked at the audience, who was awaiting. He looked over at the recovering Morgenster, who gasped in terror and rage. Tim smiled. He grabbed his sunglasses and put them over his eyes.

Then he brought the Pick down.

And he played his solo.

The riffs echoed with power, the speakers blasting out a new flawless tune as Tim's fingers became a blur against his guitar strings. Bolts surged off his fingertips as he practically became one with his music. The bolts soared out into the bleachers, striking the Templar thugs that were keeping the audience hostage, blasting them out the doors. The crowd cheered in approval over Tim's song and the rescue it was providing them. One by one, the Templars were blasted away. Some got thrust out the doors and others got flown out the windows, until eventually the audience was free.

And the only obstacle left was Morgenster.

The Templar scowled and the siblings smirked. “We told you, Morgenster,” Tim said, standing tall beside his sister, “we're the best there's ever been.”

And to punctuate his song, he struck one more note. The entire room shook as the guitar sang. A single massive bolt of lightning shot out from Tim's hand. It flew forward, and it struck the Templar square in the chest. Morgenster was blasted upwards, screaming “Nooooo!” as he went busting out a window and got flung far away into the night sky. The note held in the air for a little bit, and then Tim slowly took his hand off the strings. He strode over to where Morgenster was standing, and he picked up the golden guitar that had been left behind. He turned to the crowd with his sister and held it high in victory as they all cheered and applauded. They roared in approval, and the siblings basked in it. This was the moment they always dreamed of. This was their show, their crowd, their victory.

They took a bow.

Description
July 3, 1988; Los Angeles, California

Tim and Jen had arrived back in Los Angeles the next evening. And the very first place they ran to was the music competition. They cursed their luck as they saw it had already started. They could hear the cheering crowds inside screaming their approval of the thundering music that reverberated all the way to the streets.

“No time for auditions,” Jen said. “We'll have to sneak in!”

“You sure that's a good idea?”

Tim turned and saw his sister was already picking the lock to the back entrance. He rolled his eyes and silently laughed. Of course.

Jen got the door open and she ushered him inside with their guitars. They quietly snuck past security and slipped backstage where all the other musicians were packing up their gear.

“Damn, seems like we're the last ones,” Tim said.

“Just means we'll leave the crowd with the best act!” Jen said. “Come on quick! The band onstage is finishing up!”

They rushed to the stage steps where an announcer was waiting patiently to step onto stage and send off the show. He looked over at the siblings as they rushed up to him.

“Huh? I thought these guys were the last act?” he said, scratching his head.

“They were,” Jen said, “but the production studio made a last minute switch and added us in because ratings or some crap.”

“You've gotta be kiddin’ me!” He groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why does no one ever tell me when this happens? Alright fine, do your thing. I guess I'll have to improvise one more introduction. What's your band name?”

“Our band name?” Tim said, earning him an elbow in the side from Jen. “Ow!”

“We're the Thunderbirds!” Jen said.

“Really?” the announcer said. “If you say so.”

The band that was playing walked past them as they carried their instruments offstage and left their audience cheering. The announcer looked at the siblings.

“Alright ‘Thunderbirds’, you're up I guess. Hop onstage once I give you your cue. You'd better be good.” And then he turned and walked onto stage to do his thing.

“Thunderbirds?” Tim asked.

“I don't know, man. It sounded cool to me.”

“That's lame.”

“You're lame. Do you have the Pick?”

Tim smiled and nodded, reaching into his jacket and pulling out the Piece of Eden in question. It glowed bright gold in his hands.

“Awesome!” Jen exclaimed. “This is gonna be so sweet, dude!”

“It’d better be. Come on let's go! He's introducing us!”

The two grabbed their guitars and rushed onto the stage, being greeted by an enormous crowd of people eager to have their eardrums blasted out by some incredible music.

“-without further ado, ladies and gentlemen!” the announcer preached to the crowd. “The Thunderbirds!”

The crowd cheered as the announcer vanished behind the corner and the Spainhower siblings took center stage with their instruments.

“Hello Los Angeles!” Jen yelled into the mic. “Get ready for the tune of your life!”

The crowd cheered in response. The siblings stepped up with their guitars. Tim held the pick high as the speakers revved up. He smiled, looking into the crowd of cheering people. This was his dream. This was what he always wanted. He grinned ear to ear. He brought his hand down towards the strings, about to seize his moment, and-

Bang!

The gunshot rang throughout the air. Tim felt his hand jerk back as a bullet struck the Pick and send it spiraling out of his hands. The crowd started screaming in terror. Tim and Jen’s eyes widened as they saw dozens of armed Templar thugs marching in from every exit and blocking anyone from leaving. They stepped back a bit. Tim frantically looked for the Pick, unfortunately spotting it a bit too late. He gasped as a new figure, tall, dark, and sleek, walked up onto the stage. He bent down and gently picked up the Pick from the floor. It glowed maliciously in his hands. The air around it warped and cracked like glass. He turned toward the crowd, grabbing a microphone as he did. He looked at the audience, his glare so intense he seemingly looked straight into all of their eyes at once. With one deep breath, he shouted, “Shut up!” And sure enough, the crowd went silent with fear.

He grinned and chuckled, looking back towards the two teens. “Sorry kiddos,” he said. “I'm afraid the concert has to be cancelled.”

“Morgenster!” Jen scowled, her fists clenching.

“Oh you remembered my name! How nice.”

“Give us back the Pick and let these people go!” Tim demanded.

“Hmmmm no.”

Jen flicked out her hidden blade. Morgenster responded by rolling his eyes and holding the Pick high. It glowed brighter and pulsed as the cracks in spacetime grew larger and larger. The wind kicked up, blowing fliers all over the place and inspiring more panic in the crowd.

“You don't get it, kids,” Morgenster taunted. “I've won. I've got what I came for and now I’m going to carry out my plans! Your world is doomed!”

He started laughing maniacally, the Pick pulsing along with the sound of his voice. Tim and Jen watched in horror, and then Jen puffed up her chest and stepped forward.

“I have an offer!” she announced.

“Jen what are you doing?” Tim panicked.

“Shush. I know what I'm doing!” She turned back towards Morgenster, holding up her guitar. “Rock-Off! You against us! Winner gets the Pick, loser leaves.”

That made Morgenster pause and stare, and then start laughing again.

“Uh huh,” he said, wiping an amused tear from his eye. “And why the hell would I accept any challenge from you? I've won. I'm unstoppable!”

“If you're so unstoppable then why are you afraid of losing?”

“I'm not afraid of losing.”

“Then come on, you chicken! Take up the challenge. Prove that you've got something between those torn-up pant legs.”

Morgenster’s expression shifted. He gave a hesitant smile. “Alright,” he said. “Fine. I'll amuse you before I go off to annihilate this world.” He held the Pick to the side, shifting the cracks. He reached inside and pulled out what looked like a jagged, golden guitar. He wrapped the strap around his shoulder and held it alongside the Pick, grinning as he stared his opponents down. He hopped up on one of the speakers for dramatic effect. “Prepare to be utterly annihilated, kids,” he smirked.

“Yeah? Well you're about to be ass-kickingly surprised!” Jen said as she and her hesitant brother stepped forward with their own instruments. “Cause we're the best there's ever been!”

Morgenster simply grinned. He held the Pick high. “We'll see about that,” he gloated. And then he thrust his hand down, and plucked the first string.

The sound blasted out of the speakers, knocking the siblings over in a shockwave that reverberated throughout the stage. The strings on his guitar glowed and pulsed as he started strumming one of the most intense melodies that the siblings had ever heard. The Pick fluttered across the strings at speeds that seemed completely impossible. The notes carried throughout the room, echoing and dancing with each other. Sparks started to leap from Morgenster’s flittering fingers, sparks which quickly turned into massive energy bolts that surged forward and threatened to fry the siblings. Tim and Jen lunged out of the way, hopping onto the speakers and leaping around the stage in an attempt not to get burnt to a crisp.

“Hey that's cheating!” Jen protested as the bolts came.

“Oh I'm sorry,” Morgenster taunted as he played, “are you not talented enough to send lightning bolts out of your guitar? So sad.”

“You're a di-!” She was cut off by another bolt which she dodged by rolling back to the floor. She stood next to her brother and they scowled at their foe, who just smiled as he twiddled his strings in a flawless melody.

“He's too good…” Tim said. “We'll never beat him!”

“Not with that attitude!” Jen declared. She grabbed her guitar and started strumming in defense. The sound blasted out of her speakers. Tim quickly followed her lead, pulling up his guitar and gliding his fingers across the strings to fight against the melody that Morgenster was putting out. They managed to push him back a bit with the force of their sound, but he held his ground, and continued his flawless tune. He plucked hard on his strings, blasting more bolts in their direction. The siblings ducked and dodged and jammed back with riffs of their own, the two songs dancing around each other in an ocean of rock.

Morgenster scowled as he continued to miss his targets. “Stand still, dammit!” he said as he played.

“Oh I'm sorry,” Tim said. “Are you not talented enough to hit a couple of moving targets?”

Morgenster grit his teeth and played his instrument faster, his hands becoming a glowing blur against the strings. The speakers behind him pulsed and bounced as they let out soundwave after soundwave that nearly knocked the two siblings off their feet. The two continued their dance, however, hopping around the speakers and rafters. They started laughing, beginning to have fun in this battle of the bands, succeeding in pissing off Morgenster even more. They danced to their own songs, sliding and spinning as their speakers pushed the Templar back and threw him off his aim. They played higher and lower and did the one thing that their opponent didn't: they put passion into their music. They put their hearts and souls into their livelihood.

And that was the greatest advantage of all.

Morgenster struggled to play as the noise threatened to thrust him backwards off his feet. Even his hands started to falter, his flawless moves tripping over beats. Tim and Jen smiled. They played and played, the music filling the air, the notes booming out the speakers, the rock wowing the crowd. Morgenster struggled, each note pushing him farther and farther off balance. He grit his teeth as his boots slid against the floor. His hands flew back from his instrument, and eventually he found he couldn't hold on any longer. He tipped over, getting launched backwards into a pile of equipment. The Pick of Eden flew out of his hands on impact, flying across the stage, directly towards Tim. Tim gasped, seeing his chance. He held his hand up, fingers outstretched. The artifact fell straight towards him, getting closer and closer and closer…

And then he grabbed it.

It glowed in his hands like a sword just pulled from a stone. Its energy surged through his arm and his body, even giving his guitar a halo of golden light. He looked to his sister, who was grinning. He looked at the audience, who was awaiting. He looked over at the recovering Morgenster, who gasped in terror and rage. Tim smiled. He grabbed his sunglasses and put them over his eyes.

Then he brought the Pick down.

And he played his solo.

The riffs echoed with power, the speakers blasting out a new flawless tune as Tim's fingers became a blur against his guitar strings. Bolts surged off his fingertips as he practically became one with his music. The bolts soared out into the bleachers, striking the Templar thugs that were keeping the audience hostage, blasting them out the doors. The crowd cheered in approval over Tim's song and the rescue it was providing them. One by one, the Templars were blasted away. Some got thrust out the doors and others got flown out the windows, until eventually the audience was free.

And the only obstacle left was Morgenster.

The Templar scowled and the siblings smirked. “We told you, Morgenster,” Tim said, standing tall beside his sister, “we're the best there's ever been.”

And to punctuate his song, he struck one more note. The entire room shook as the guitar sang. A single massive bolt of lightning shot out from Tim's hand. It flew forward, and it struck the Templar square in the chest. Morgenster was blasted upwards, screaming “Nooooo!” as he went busting out a window and got flung far away into the night sky. The note held in the air for a little bit, and then Tim slowly took his hand off the strings. He strode over to where Morgenster was standing, and he picked up the golden guitar that had been left behind. He turned to the crowd with his sister and held it high in victory as they all cheered and applauded. They roared in approval, and the siblings basked in it. This was the moment they always dreamed of. This was their show, their crowd, their victory.

They took a bow.