With great relief on Quatre’s behalf, it is decided that little Yugi should be taken home. He’s snuck in, tucked in, and a skin flick popped into the machine, before the remainder of the gang slip back out, just barely avoiding a groggy and grumpy Grandpa Mutou.
They hop into the car and cut through Medford to catch Route 93 into Boston. A couple of detours and some backtracking later, Quatre manages to maneuver the Pacer over to South Station, and onto its final destination over the bridge and around the corner.
“Hey Sano!” Duo hollers at the tall bouncer as he and the others amble over from the car to the club entrance. “How’s it hanging?”
“Not at all!” Sanosuke yells back. “10,000 BC is playing tonight. The place is overrun with their groupies.”
“10,000 BC? But those guys suck!”
“Yeah, I know, but fortunately so do their groupies,” winks Sanosuke. “Hey Quatre,” he adds, holding his hand up for a high-five.
“Good evening Sano.” Quatre declines, knowing the man’s strength, and opts for a wave, instead.
“So who else is playing tonight?” asks Duo.
The bouncer thinks for a moment, “Good Question.”
“Is that the name of the band, or are you yanking my chain?”
“It’s a band. Four chicks. Drummer kicks ass! She fell on hers the other night at Club 3 when her stool gave out during an intense drum solo!” chuckles Sanosuke.
“Yeah! We also got Geeks R Us.”
“Geeks R Us? Never heard of them. Any good?”
“I’ll let you decide. They’re up next. But I have a feeling your opinion is gonna be biased!”
“Huh?” The others are puzzled.
Sanosuke’s response is a collective shove through the club’s front door, where the gang is immediately enveloped by music from the current act, wrapping up its set.
This is The Channel. One of Boston’s premiere rock clubs. If you want to be somebody in the rock ‘n’ roll business, you gotta play here. Even some of the smaller “big” bands have headlined at this place.
“And they have most excellent munchies,” Quatre adds.
“‘Most excellent munchies’? *playfully swats my friend upside the head* “You’ve been watching Bill & Ted cartoons again, haven’t you?”
“They’re ‘vintage animation’, Duo,” Quatre haughtily smiles before he heads off for the bar.
What Duo neglected to mention is that The Channel is a late 1980’s/early 1990’s retro club. With the latest resurgence of heavy metal, the club’s owners resurrected the look and feel of a rock club from that period. *grabs a stool in front of the bar* “Can I get a Corona and an order of nachos, please?” *nods in the direction of the bartender* Complete with spandex and big hair. So the phrase ‘most excellent munchies’ would not be out of place here. Can you tell I live for this sort of thing?
Waiting for the bartender to return, Quatre soon finds himself flanked on either side by Maguanacs. “Rashid! Abdul! How are you?”
“Doing well, Master Quatre. Will you join us in a drink?” Rashid gestures toward the bottle of tequila the bartender has just set in front of them.
Quatre ponders for a moment, “I guess one shot won’t hurt, but we’ll be needing limes and salt.”
A shaker of salt and bottles of lime juice and triple sec are added to the contents of the counter.
“Aren’t these the ingredients for a Margarita?”
The bartender nods.
“So why aren’t you making them?”
“You remember how the Maguanacs used to let loose whenever we returned from battle?” asks Abdul.
“You mean fucking anything that moved?” Quatre jokes.
“The other way we used to let loose,” clarifies Rashid.
“Why yes, the drinking games… Oh shit!”
“Oh yeah!” Abdul crows, spinning Quatre around on his stool. “It’s time to officially welcome you into our ranks!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Abdul pulls Quatre’s head back, down to the counter. “Now hush up and open wide!”
While Quatre is busy trying to convince his friends that real men drink within their limits, and being a human Margarita, repetitively, is well beyond his limits, Duo has made his way into the stage area. He finds one of the tables he knows has a good view, orders a Pepsi, and makes himself comfortable as they make ready for the next group.
As Geeks R Us steps out on stage, Duo’s eyes go wide. “Heero? Heero’s the lead guitarist?” he mutters in disbelief. Heero. The stuff dreams are made of. Wet dreams. Dreams involving ice cream, various sundae toppings, and featuring Heero as the banana in Duo’s banana split. “Heero!!!” he calls out, hoping to catch the object of his wildest fantasies’ attention. But Heero can’t hear him. He already has a throng of 10,000 BC defectors worshipping at his feet.
Geeks R Us’ set is intense! Between original songs covering a wide range of musical styles and a handful of covers, the band rocks the club. Heero’s personal fan club has grown and phone numbers are being tossed on stage. Midway through a solo in Wild Thing something black and silky catches on the head of Heero’s guitar. He is annoyed, until a quick glimpse tells him that the item is a pair of boxers. With a subtle grin he decides to leave them there.
Duo makes it back to his table to find Quatre has joined him. “Quatre?” he calls, noticing his friend doesn’t look all that well (his head on the table might have been a tip-off). “What the fuck happened to you?”
“Maguanac attack? But the Maguanacs are our friends.”
“That’s whathey wantchoo to believe,” Quatre rubs his temples. “Then they breakout ta liquor and b’come evil!”
Duo laughs. “Ah, yes, the drinking games. They must’ve pitied you if you’re still standing.”
“They’re pity… pit… pity-ing me from ta fla-oor!”
“You’re last man standing?!”
Quatre nods violently before wincing in pain and grabbing his head.
“Shit, Quat, I didn’t know you had it in you! Just do us all a favor and try to keep it in until we make it to the bathroom!” Leaping out of his seat Duo quickly escorts a very ill Quatre to the restroom.