“Iʼve been a fan for, like, a decade,” said the soldier in the gray uniform.

“Huh. So, youʼve been listening since it was just me in that tiny apartment uploading stuff?” The man played with the badge around his neck. Under his mugshot it read, Clive Whales.

“Oh yeah, man. And I was playing that shit to all my schoolmates, whether they wanted me to or not. Your stuff was awesome right out of the gate.”

“I donʼt know about that. Youʼve probably heard the recordings of me just learning guitar while I was still a drummer.” Clive smirked, but it went away as he looked out the windows beside them.

Outside, the street lights turned off. Men with rifles and night vision goggles patrolled the sidewalks. Everyone else scurried to apartment buildings.

“Well, yeah.” The soldier shrugged. “I started listening right after you and Yesfir adopted a band name. She could scream.”

Clive looked down. “She could. A shame she didnʼt work out. Hey, whatʼs your name? Are you security?” He put out his hand.

The soldier shook it. “Ian Taylor. Staff Sergeant. Naw. Iʼm with the local detachment. You see, they want us out and about in uniform when off duty to put an impression on people. Weʼre more than just guys in helmets.”

Clive frowned. “So, is this more or less a feel-good tactic? Thatʼs the first time Iʼve heard of that. I mean, I figure youʼd come here if you could, but they want you here?”

“Right, right. I put in a request for this concert, and I got it on the condition that I go in uniform. ʻEvents in Uniformʼ is what weʼre calling them in the barracks, and theyʼre getting approved left and right. For now.” Ian put his hands in his pockets and leaned against a cafeteria table. The fluorescent light above them flickered. Between the lights, gray tables blended with the shadows.

“So, whereʼs the rest of the crew?” asked Ian.

“Theyʼve moved on to a tavern,” said Clive. “Iʼm stuck here waiting for someone. Just some mid-tour bullshit I need to deal with.”

Ian nodded. “Anything I can help with? You know I can help you get about after the curfew.”

Clive smiled. “Much appreciated, but not necessary. This guy knows how to move.”

“Oh, really?” Ian cocked his head. “Dude, just be careful. Weʼre not playing games in this town. Thereʼve been shootings this week. The reporters missed them, since the curfew applies to them, too. Terrorists donʼt sleep.”

“I know, I know.” Clive shook his head. “Letʼs not get into this terror bullshit. I learned before I got here things are more complicated than that.”

Ian smirked. “Well, I guess the rock-and-roll attitude would make ya sympathetic to a rebel force.”

Clive took a step back. “It ainʼt like that, man. Donʼt think I was isolated on the coast. People came back from the war and everybodyʼs stories contradicted why we went overseas. Now, itʼs right here and itʼs the same confusing shit. Fuck, I didnʼt want to get into this.”

“Iʼm sorry.” Ian put a hand up. “I donʼt claim to know any more than you do. I just made a joke. Things are a little different from my end. I live with the bad stuff you only hear about on the coast. Sometimes, you just have to laugh. Iʼm not putting you down. Iʼll shut up about it.”

Clive sighed. “Itʼs okay, man.” He looked at the door by the other light further down the cafeteria. “Maybe you shouldnʼt be here when he arrives.”

“Why so?”

“Because...” Clive looked around. “That uniform, man. It just puts some people on edge.”

Ian raised a palm. “Look, man. Iʼm off duty. I ainʼt seeing shit, and I sure ainʼt reporting shit.” He rested a hand on the grip of his pistol. “This here is for my personal protection. Nothing more.” He reached into a cargo pocket in his pants. “How about some fanboy-ism and then Iʼll get going.” He pulled out a wrapped cloth, then unfolded it to reveal a CD. “Think you could sign this for me?”

Clive laughed. “Absolutely. I havenʼt seen the limited edition of our debut in a while.” He signed the CD case and handed it back to Ian. “You know, I havenʼt seen a CD in forever now that I think about it. You straight up canʼt get entertainment now unless itʼs over the internet, and even then you better hope youʼre not throttled. Did you get the later albums before shipping halted all over?”

Ian shook his head. “Well, I got the second and third. The fourth got denied in transit and I just hunted down a disk-image online.”

“That sucks. Iʼll talk to our drummer later. We keep copies for backstage guests, but weʼll work something out.” He looked over as a man stepped through the far door. “I gotta go.”

They shook hands and Clive walked towards the new arrival. The new man held his head low so his hat covered his face. His trench coat swayed as he strode across the room. Glancing up, he glared at Clive.