Chapter 23: The Deposition
The Los Angeles morning was cloaked in a rare haze, the downtown skyline muted as Sam Rivers, Mia Torres, and Javier Reyes stepped into the sleek offices of Eclipse Records' legal team, a glass-and-steel fortress that reeked of corporate power. It was Sunday, hours after the Fonda Theatre finale that had ignited "Chi-Town Chains" to 500,000 streams and cemented #IndieRebels as a global force, outshining Lily Voss's faltering Roxy pop-up. The Hitmaker System's interface glowed on Sam's phone, locked in a biometric case and tucked in Javier's briefcase: "Mission Progress: 100%. Objective: Defend the Hitmaker System in deposition to secure the rebellion's future. Target: Neutralize Eclipse's legal threat. Reward: Legacy Module (Level 2). Warning: Direct assault on app imminent—maximum risk of exposure. Counter-strategy: Use sabotage evidence to discredit Eclipse's claims."
The Fonda's triumph had been a blaze—3,000 fans chanting, "No Surrender" debuting to a roaring crowd, and #EclipseExposed trending above #StarlightReign. The Seattle sabotage clip, Denver's tampered wire, and a sworn tech statement had strengthened Javier's case, but Eclipse's subpoena had won partial access to Sam's phone metadata, and today's deposition aimed to pry open the Hitmaker System itself. Jake Harlan's last text—"Tomorrow, you're mine"—was a promise of war. Lily's latest X post, a subdued "Thank you, LA. My heart keeps shining. #StarlightReign," had failed to regain traction, but her label's legal machine was relentless, now alleging the system was "stolen tech" used to "mimic" her sound.
Sam adjusted his borrowed tie, the office's sterile air chilling his skin. Mia, in a black blazer over her usual denim, squeezed his arm. "You got this, Rivers. Jake's desperate—his empire's cracking. Hit 'em with the truth."
Sam nodded, pulse racing. "If they get the system, it's over. Everything we built—gone."
Javier, clutching his briefcase, led them to a conference room, its long table flanked by Eclipse's legal team—Diane Carter at the helm, her cold smile sharper than ever. Jake Harlan sat beside her, his tailored suit a stark contrast to his venomous glare. Two tech experts, hired guns in crisp shirts, fiddled with laptops, ready to dissect Sam's phone. A court reporter typed silently, and a video feed recorded for the judge.
The system pinged softly: "Defense Strategy: Deny proprietary nature of app; emphasize original creativity. Leverage sabotage evidence to shift focus." Sam took a deep breath as Diane began, her voice like ice.
"Mr. Rivers, this deposition concerns your use of proprietary software to produce music that infringes on Eclipse Records' intellectual property. Your 'Hitmaker System' app—describe its origin and functionality."
Javier leaned forward. "Objection—assumes facts not in evidence. The app's proprietary status is unproven. My client's music is original, as supported by millions of streams and independent production."
Diane's eyes narrowed. "We have metadata showing unusual code patterns on Mr. Rivers' phone, synced with his releases. Explain the app, or we'll assume it's stolen tech."
Sam's heart pounded, the system whispering: "Deflect with partial truth." He spoke, voice steady. "The app's a music tool I developed—organizes ideas, suggests tweaks. It's mine, built from scratch. My songs come from me, not Eclipse. Your sabotage at IndieFest and Seattle proves you're scared of my work, not protecting yours."
The room tensed. Diane slid a tablet across, showing metadata logs—encrypted pings from the system. "This suggests advanced AI, beyond a hobbyist's skill. Did you steal it from Eclipse's production suite?"
Javier interjected, sliding the Seattle sabotage screenshot and Denver's tampered wire photo. "Your Honor, via record, Eclipse's bad faith is clear. They disrupted Mr. Rivers' performances—here's proof. A sworn statement from a Seattle tech confirms their agent, Greg, bribed staff. Their claims are a distraction from their own misconduct."
Jake's smirk faltered, his fingers drumming. The tech experts frowned, one muttering about "anomalous code." Diane pressed: "The app's output mirrors Lily Voss's catalog—same chord progressions, tempos. Explain that."
Sam leaned forward, the system urging: "Emotional authenticity." "Lily and I worked together once—she knows my style. If anything's similar, it's because she built on my ideas, not the other way around. My fans know the truth—#IndieRebels is millions strong. You've got no evidence, just threats."
The crowd outside, audible through the window, chanted "Indie Rebels!"—fans rallied via X after Sam's pre-deposition post: "Eclipse wants my soul in court today. Stand with us. #RebelRising." The system chimed: "Public support impact: +35%. Strategy: Escalate exposure post-deposition."
Diane switched tactics, addressing the techs. "Analyze the phone now." Javier blocked it. "Not without a court order specifying scope. Metadata's one thing; full access violates privacy."
The lead tech, a wiry man named Kessler, spoke up. "We've traced encrypted signals to a non-standard platform—possibly extraterrestrial code patterns." The room froze. Jake's eyes gleamed, sensing blood.
Sam's pulse spiked, but the system countered: "Firewall holding. Deny specifics." He shrugged. "Sounds like sci-fi to me. It's just a music app—helps me write, mix, plan. You're chasing ghosts."
Javier stood. "Your Honor, Eclipse's fishing expedition is baseless. Their sabotage—documented here—shows intent to harm, not protect. We request dismissal of their claims and sanctions for bad faith."
Diane bristled, but the court reporter's typing was the only sound. Jake leaned to her, whispering, then stood abruptly. "Enough games, Rivers. Hand over the app, or we bury you in court for years."
Sam met his gaze, voice iron. "You stole my music, Jake. I'm not handing over anything. The fans know—your empire's crumbling."
The system chimed: "Confrontation success: +20% narrative control." The deposition ended with no immediate ruling, but Javier whispered, "We rattled them. The sabotage evidence tipped the scale. Judge'll decide soon."
Outside, fans mobbed them, waving signs. Sam posted on X: "Faced Jake in court. He wants my tools, my truth. We're still standing. 'No Surrender' live tonight on KXLA—join us. #IndieRebels." The post hit 50,000 likes, "No Surrender" climbing to 200,000 streams.
That night, KXLA hosted a live interview and performance. Sam and Mia played "No Surrender," the system boosting the mix with cinematic strings: No surrender, no retreat. The stream hit 30,000 viewers, fans flooding X: "Sam owned Jake!" "#EclipseExposed!"
Javier texted: "Judge is leaning our way—sabotage proof's strong. But Jake's not done. He's hinting at a settlement offer." A new text from Jake: "One last chance, Rivers. Give us the app, or we burn you down."
Mia hugged Sam, eyes fierce. "They're breaking. Europe tour next—Berlin's calling. Let's bury them."
The system chimed: "Mission Complete: Threat neutralized. Reward: Legacy Module (Level 2)." It unlocked global campaign tools—fan clubs, merch pipelines. But the warning flashed: "Final objective: Secure legacy in Europe tour opener." As the city lights faded, Sam felt the fire steady. Jake's empire was cracking, but the system's secret was a ticking bomb.