Chapter 17: Shadows in Seattle
The relentless rain of Seattle drummed against the van's roof like a frantic drum solo as Sam Rivers and Mia Torres pulled up to the Crocodile, a gritty club nestled in the heart of the city's music scene. It was Sunday evening, the second stop on their Rebel Rising Tour, two days after the fiery San Francisco opener that had launched "City Lights" to 150,000 streams and sold out the remaining tour dates. The Hitmaker System's interface flickered on Sam's phone, its holographic text cutting through the dim interior: "Mission Progress: 100%. Objective: Overcome sabotage at Seattle show to build tour resilience. Target: 15,000 streams for 'City Lights' post-performance. Reward: Security Module (Level 1). Warning: Sabotage risk critical—Eclipse targeting venue tech. Counter-strategy: Preemptive checks and fan mobilization."
The San Francisco triumph had been electric—"City Lights" debuted with a roar, its lyrics carving into the city's soul like the fog-shrouded lights outside the Fillmore. X had exploded with fan clips, #IndieRebels reclaiming the top spot, but Eclipse's subpoena for Sam's phone records loomed like a guillotine. Javier had filed a motion to quash it, arguing privacy invasion, but Jake Harlan's spies were closing in. The anonymous texts had escalated: "Seattle's next. Watch the wires." Lily Voss's "Broken Promises" remix had hit #1 on Spotify, her narrative of victimhood bolstered by a "tell-all" interview snippet teasing "the real story behind the breakup."
Sam wiped condensation from the window, peering at the Crocodile's marquee: "Sam Rivers & Mia Torres: Rebel Rising." A line of 400 fans snaked down the block, umbrellas bobbing like black mushrooms, chanting "Indie Rebels!" despite the downpour. Mia, bundled in a rain-slicked leather jacket, grinned as she grabbed her guitar case. "Look at 'em, Rivers. Seattle's ready to riot. Eclipse picks the wrong city to mess with—grunge heart, rebel soul."
Sam forced a smile, but his gut twisted. The system had flagged a vulnerability: Eclipse's rep, Greg, had been spotted buying tickets for Seattle, and Leo's contacts whispered of "tech bribes" at the venue. The subpoena hinted they knew about the Hitmaker System—how? A hack? A leak from Lily? Sam had encrypted the app with the system's new security features, but paranoia gnawed.
Tara, the stage manager, met them at the back door, her poncho dripping. "Soundcheck in 30. Leo's sweeping the board—no obvious tampering yet. But the house tech's new; Soundwave vetted him, but… eyes open."
Inside, the Crocodile's intimate vibe—low ceilings, vintage posters of Nirvana and Pearl Jam—felt like a fortress. The crew bustled: Dani rigging cameras for the stream, Leo testing mics. Sam and Mia ran through "City Lights," the system's Tour Support Module suggesting a reverb tweak for the rainy ambiance, making the chorus echo like distant thunder: Rebels rising through the endless nights, / Our fire burns where the shadows fight. Mia's harmonies cut through, her voice a beacon in the gloom.
Fans trickled in, shaking off rain, filling the room with wet denim and electric buzz. A local opener, a folk-punk duo called Rainshadow, warmed the crowd with covers of Mudhoney. Sam peeked from the wings, spotting a few suits in the back—Eclipse plants? He texted the #IndieRebels group chat: "Seattle rebels, be our eyes. Spot any shady suits, report 'em. #RebelRising." Replies flooded: "Got two near the bar!" "Tech guy's acting weird by the board!"
The system pinged: "Fan Engagement Module Active. Mobilization success: +25% vigilance." Sam nodded to Tara, who beefed up security near the sound booth. At 9:30 p.m., the lights dimmed, and the crowd's roar shook the rafters. Sam and Mia hit the stage, spotlights slicing the haze.
"Seattle!" Sam bellowed, rain pattering on the roof like applause. "From the fog to the fire—you're the rebels who never quit. Eclipse is out there, trying to pull strings. But tonight, we cut 'em loose!" The crowd howled, the stream kicking off at 3,000 viewers.
They opened with "Rebel's Anthem," the riff slicing through the air, fans moshing despite the slick floor. Mia leaped into the pit, guitar high, pulling a fan onstage for the chorus chant. No glitches—the system's real-time monitoring held steady.
"Faded Whispers" hushed the room, its melancholy fitting the drizzle outside. Sam poured vulnerability into the lyrics, eyes locking with Mia's during the bridge—a silent promise amid the chaos. The stream hit 5,000, comments scrolling: "This hits different in Seattle 😭" "#IndieRebels forever!"
But during "Unsilenced," the lights flickered. A murmur rippled; then the sound dipped, vocals muddying like they'd been run through mud. Greg was at the booth, feigning innocence. Leo dove in, rerouting cables, but the damage lingered—feedback squealed, cutting Mia's harmony mid-note.
Sam didn't miss a beat, grabbing the mic unplugged. "They're at it again, Seattle! Sing it for us!" The crowd erupted, belting We're the voice they can't silence! a cappella, phones lighting the room like a storm of fireflies. The system auto-boosted the monitors, restoring clarity just as the chorus peaked. The roar was deafening, drowning Eclipse's sabotage.
"Break the Chains" followed, the crowd's energy a tidal wave. Sam shredded the solo, sweat mixing with the venue's humidity. "City Lights" got its full tour debut, the Seattle skyline projected on screens behind them—fans sang along, carving their own names in the lyrics. The system enhanced the mix, adding a rainy reverb that made it feel alive, electric.
They closed with "Seven Nation Army," the riff a war drum. As confetti—Soundwave's touch—rained down, the crowd chanted for more. Sam and Mia obliged with an impromptu "Sparks in the Dark," acoustic and intimate, Mia's hand brushing his in the dim light.
Backstage, the crew swarmed—Leo holding up a tampered cable: "Greg bribed the house tech; we caught him mid-swap." Tara grinned. "Fans spotted him; security bounced him. Video's going viral."
Dani showed the clip: a fan's phone footage of Greg slinking away, crowd booing. Sam posted it on X: "Eclipse tried again in Seattle. Fans said NO. 'City Lights' live from the show—download now. #IndieRebels #RebelRising." Streams for "City Lights" surged to 12,000 in minutes.
Rachel from Soundwave called, ecstatic. "Denver's doubled capacity—word's spreading. But Javier says Eclipse's subpoena's pushing for your phone. Hide that app."
Sam's pulse raced. The system whispered: "Security Module Unlocked. Encryption upgraded." But a new text from Jake: "Nice try, Rivers. We'll see your little secrets soon."
Mia slung her arm around him. "Chicago next. They're breaking, Sam. We're unbreakable."
The system chimed: "Mission Complete: 15,000 streams achieved. Next objective: Expose sabotage evidence pre-Denver to deter further attacks." As the van rolled into the night, Seattle's lights fading, Sam felt the shadows lengthening—but the fire within burned fiercer. Eclipse was unraveling, one sabotaged cable at a time.