Gymnasium - Backstage
"There ya are, ya little ratbrat! 'Bout time you show your ugly-ass mug 'round here! Hell's bells, Crow, I heard it was bad, but yer a #$%^in' trainwreck!"
Johnny was clinging onto his guitar backstage, glaring over his sunglasses at Jackie and Tammy as the girls approached. Sid stood near them, sipping from a cup of punch.
"Thought I'd have to go out there and play this gig solo," Johnny said. "Which I'd be totally cool with!"
"Shove it up your ass," Jackie shot back. "I've had a longer day than you could imagine, so don't be a jackass, ya livin' migraine."
Johnny grumbled. "Yeah, I can tell! The hell's yer face even doin', ya crapwrangler?! Ya look like yer boyfriend just dumped ya and ya cried into a tub of sherbet."
"I said UP YER ASS!" Jackie shouted back. The mess of her makeup gave her death-glare an edge to it that made the guitarist shudder.
"Yeesh, fine, whatever...just put that thing away, Christ." He turned away, fixing up his red leather jacket's collar. "Well ya always looked like a little pukestain anyway, so it don't matter to me. We crashin' this stage now, or what?"
"Hold onto your spikes for five goddamn minutes, Johnny," Tammy interjected. "You might be fine lookin' like a clown, but not all of us are as comfortable with our idiocy as you are. Girl's gotta get a makeover."
Jackie folded her arms reluctantly. "H-Huh? But I told Gwen that..." She pouted for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah, you're right. I don't wanna go up there lookin' like...this." She glanced up at Tammy. "But we don't got the time to wash all this crap off, fix my hair, head to my dorm for new clothes...It's a hell of a hassle if you wanna beat the schedule."
Tammy smirked, surprisingly. "You got a bra on under that get-up?"
Jackie's face turned red. "W-What?! What the hell are you blabbin' about n-now?!"
"Er...I mean, do ya got anything on under it. Yer not commando under there, right?"
"Guh...I've got an undersized tank top and some boxers under the jumpsuit, but I'm not gonna strip down in front of people I like...know."
Tammy shrugged. "Tank top works. Boxers is a bit much, but we're covered there. We got a pair of suspenders from...somewhere, Iunno. Sid?" Sid shrugged. "Yeah, Iunno where we got them, but we got them. Unbutton that atrocity and just keep 'em up with the suspenders, should be fine. We'll be good from there."
Jackie gave Tammy a questionable look. "You...expect me to go out there, just wearin' half a jumpsuit, with my face all effed up like this? I look like...Guh, dammit, what's goin' on in yer head, asshole?!"
She didn't expect Tammy to slam her hands down on her shoulders.
"I've been rockin' this aesthetic lot longer than you have, baby bird," Tammy said with a grin. "Trust me on this one. I got this thing all planned out. I know punk a hell of a lot more than you do, and I know how to polish that turd of an outfit into #$%^in' gold. Ya trust me, right?"
Jackie was quiet for a moment. "You...never give this much of a damn. What's up...?"
Tammy shrugged. "Do I look like I give a s%^& today? Meh, maybe I just feel a bit...motivated today." She let go of Jackie's shoulders and snapped her fingers. "But you don't got the time for anything else, so take yer top off and put on those goddamn suspenders!"
She was unresponsive at first, but Jackie eventually nodded. "Alright..." She turned around to unbutton the jumpsuit, but stopped for a moment. "Uh...I should probably go let UV know before I go on..."
"Don't worry, don't worry," Tammy said with a dismissive wave. "I remembered yer whole deal, so I told Sid to check on the blonde chick beforehand. Ain't that right, Sid?"
Sid nodded. "Yeah. I looked out for her at the punch bowl. I can say for certain that she's exactly where we want her to be."
Jackie smiled. "Oh, uh...thanks, guys. That's...actually pretty cool of you." She turned back around to get the buttons. "Yo, so what the hell song we playin', anyway? Doubt many of our songs would fly here. We doin' a cover...?"
"Yeah, I already got one picked out," Tammy nodded. She started rummaging through a box of their random supplies. "Better praise me for this one, kid, cuz it's one of yer favorites. Where the hell is that...ah!" She stood back up and held up what she picked out of the box: a megaphone. "Clown's gotta make the crowd feel good, right? Let's make 'em laugh."
Approaching Shelvington Academy
"We're nearly there, young master."
As the sky grew darker, a white limousine traveled down the road leading towards the front gates of Shelvington Academy. It was not quite the excessive length of the school's own limousine, but it was well-kept and glistened in the little light that hit it. There were not many people inside, however. There was a tightly dressed driver in the front...and a young man in the back.
"Good," the boy said. "The voyage here was exhausting...I'm growing impatient with this entire detour. Taking time out of my studies at St. Carter's for this back lot is tiring enough. It better be worth it."
The driver nervously gripped tighter onto his steering wheel. "W-Well, young master, is Shelvington not the most heavily funded school this side of the planet? I don't suppose that it's-"
"Don't be so naïve," the young man snapped back. "It has its excess in budget, but it's no prestigious academy. The richest people in the world send their children here to goof off all day and barely learn a thing. They don't have any remarkable sort of education here. It's just a well-funded playground. No CEO or senator will emerge from a school like this." He leaned against his hand as he stared out the window. "That's the difference between me and them, after all."
"Er...with all due respect," the driver replied, "those are all rumors, right?"
"That's what I'm here to confirm or deny," the young man claimed.
"Well, the rumors could be fake, right? Like, uh...a slander campaign, or something?"
"It's none of your concern whether they are true or false," the young man once again snapped at. "Don't poke your head around where it doesn't belong. Father and Mother tasked this to me. I will personally see whether or not this school is truly worthy of the family name or not. If the paparazzi was wrong, then there will be no issue. If what they showed off was indicative of a larger issue...well. This school may not be worth the investment in. And I am sure Father's lawyers will have plenty to look into..."
"U-Um..." The driver sighed. "Yes, young master, I understand your point."
The limousine came to a stop outside the front gates.
"I'll park the limousine for now. If you intend to stay, you can come get your things. Otherwise, I'll drive you back. But, uh, young master..." The driver fixed his cap to avoid eye contact as his young boss exited the vehicle. "Try not to go in there too pessimistic. I-I know you're usually right about things, but you never know-"
"I hear music."
"Music," the young man repeated. "And certainly no Bach or Chopin. Tech music. Something you might expect at those trashy clubs the commoners visit."
"It's giving me a migraine," the young man said.
"Uh...yes, well. Best of luck, young Master Robert. I...hope your investigation goes well."
The limousine drove off, leaving the young master Robert behind. He glared at the school, tilting his head back and forth as he examined it.
"Shelvington Academy...hmph. You had better not disgraced our name with your buffoonery." He clenched his teeth. "Or so help me, I will personally see to your destruction."