a/n: this chapter is not as detailed, or good as the last. It's just to get plot and action rolling. The two song with lyrics in them are copyright Me. Yeah, they're ORIGINAL SONGS. Crappy ones, but original nontheless.
Disclaimer: Scott Pilgrim and it's characters, along with Glee and it's characters do not belong to me. They belong to the original owner and their affiliates.
THINGS PICK UP
"WE SUCK!" Stephen Stills cries, tugging at his hair.
"Kind of..." Julie mumbles, studying her nails. "Yeah, you suck."
"How's my favorite band?" Envy asks, emerging backstage. Wallace's fist tightens, and he gives her the most acerbic glare he can muster. Ramona turns her nose up the other way from Envy, getting into a conversation with Knives. Young Neil has nothing to do, so he climbs up into the catwalks.
Kim just hates everyone, so she just configures with her wire brushes.
"Hey, you guys have to stay back here and look invisible. The glee clubs are going to be here in any minute, and I have to go up at the judge's booth," Envy says.
Stephen Stills nods, and shoos her away. "Am I the only one perturbed by this situation?"
"I don't even know the meaning of the word," Scott says confidently.
He really doesn't. Ramona rolls her eyes, and smiles.
"Psst! They're coming!" Knives stage whispers. "The...show choir groups."
WHIP! They all focused upwards as the backstage doors opened, and tons of teenagers barge in and chatter incessantly.
Kim sniffs. "The smell of hormonal prime is thick in the air."
Rachel put her hands on her hips and took in a deep inhale of her surroundings. "It's not Carnegie Hall, but it's alright."
Mercedes rolls her eyes. "Mr. Schue, should we change?"
Mr. Schue nods, clasping his hands together. "Go get ready, you guys!" He turns to Kurt and Blaine. "You guys are fine just hanging backstage, right?"
Blaine and Kurt exchange mischievous glances, and nod feverishly before running off.
"They're going to have sex in the catwalks, aren't they? Wanky," Santana says with a wink.
-somewhere in Lima-
Burt Hummel convulsed, a shiver running through his body.
"Burt? You okay?" his new wife, Carol, asks.
"I just had an odd feeling of wanting to murder someone."
Tina gives her a once over in the mirror. "My lips look pale and awful!" she cries.
"It's called lipstick, Tee, use it," Santana says, applying mascara.
"Here, face me," Quinn says, opening a tube of lip liner, and delicately gliding it across Tina's lips. Tina takes this time to examine the backstage prep room. Mirrors line across the walls, and the walls are painted a light gold. The ceilings are...
"There's a girl in the ceiling beams!" Tina shouts, pointing up. Sure enough, as everyone looks up, there's a tiny Asian girl sitting in the rafters, reading. "Hey! Girl!" Tina calls.
The girl looks up, startled.
"Who are you?" Rachel demands. "Are you from the Soapy Sopranos? ARE YOU A SPY?"
The girl smirks, and jumps down, striped scarf fluttering behind her. She lands swiftly and safely, much to their surprise. She straightens out, whipping the hair out of her face. "Knives Chau."
18 YEARS OLD.
Rachel, unfazed by the sheer badass-ness of that move, marches up face to face to Knives. "You didn't answer my question."
Knives scoffs, pushing the taller girl about two feet back. "I'm not a spy. I'm with the band."
"Band?" Quinn asks.
"They're called, the Sex Bob-Ombs."
Stephen Stills re-adjusts the microphone stand. For the tenth time.
"Chill out," Kim says in a monotone voice. "We're not going on for another two hours or so."
Wallace Wells grins deviously. "Ahem. I'm not needed, so I'm going to scope out on the men's dressing room."
"Don't..." Ramona starts, but she shakes her head. "Never mind. You won't listen to me."
Wallace smirks, and slides through the door inside.
"My hair is fading!" Sam shrieks.
Puck punches his arm. "No one cares." He straightens the tie on his shirt. "I look totally un bad ass."
"I think you all look sexy..." Wallace pronounces.. All of the glee guys's eyes widen, and turn to the twenty something year old leaning against the door, eyebrow raised.
"Uh...who are you?" Finn asks.
Wallace pushes off against the wall, examining all of them. "How old are you guys?"
"Seventeen, most of us." Puck says.
"Is this guy checking us out?" Mike whispers to Artie.
Neil is taking a nap in the catwalks, dreaming of Zelda. Everything is so peaceful up here...
"Oh, Blaine..." a sigh and a giggle is heard. Neil stirs from his sleep, and stands up, grabbing the bar for support. He squints, and on the other end he sees two people, whispering to eachother and-
OH GOD THEY'RE MAKING OUT.
Neil shudders, and wonders what to do. Should he try to get away or something?
OH MY LINK THEY'RE ABOUT TO TAKE OFF EACH-OTHER'S CLOTHING.
"DON'T!" Neil squeaks. The two people turn around swiftly, and have the deer-in-headlights look plastered on their faces.
And...they're two dudes.
"I'm...kinda...right here," Neil says awkwardly. The two guys jump apart from eachother, turning to him in full horror.
"I'm so sorry!" the lighter one sputters, fully embarrassed.
"We had no idea anyone was here!"
"Of course." Neil backs away towards the other ladder. "I'll leave you two alone, then." Climbing down each step, he hears the continuation of giggles. Shuddering, he jumps down the last three steps, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"SOAPY SOPRANOS, PLEASE REPORT TO BACKSTAGE, SHOW STARTS IN FIVE," a voice says over the intercom. Neil jolts, checking his superhero watch. Superman says that he was sleeping a long goddamn time. He circles his way back to the band set up, and by now Stephan Stills has dashed off to the bathroom, puking his intestines and trace amounts of frozen burrito up.
Scott tunes his bass, humming the first few notes of 'Power-Up 4 Me'. His outturned collars and 8-bit tie look kind of geeky, but the black jacket (sort of) makes up for it.
Scott turns, studies the Soapy Sopranos stride out to line up behind the curtains. They look like automatons or priest robots. The girls are wearing floor length floral print dresses, hair combed into a tight bun. They wear a shawl over it to prevent any cleavage sightings. The guys have good boy 50's hairstyles, and shined shoes. What the-
Kurt and Blaine sit in the audience, hair and clothes rumpled from...earlier, biting their lips in anticipation. Soapy Sopranos are crowd pleasers, apparently, but have never posted their videos online, so neither the Warblers or the New Directions have been able to do any solid research on them.
The lights dim, and the spotlight swings to the side of the stage. The host stumbles out, almost tipping over.
"Ladies and Gentlemen-"-hiccup- "welcome to the International competitions! First off, lets welcome our judges!"
Three people ascend the short staircase, and join the host's side.
"Right here," the host begins, blindly grabbing a small man and presenting him off, "is the one and only Justin Bieber Impersonator!" A few weak claps ring out, leaving a stale silence. A burly man in sunglasses steps out next. "Next up, Miley Cyrus's security guard!"
"This is terrible," Kurt mutters in Blaine's ear.
"Just wait..." he leans forward, grinning in anticipation.
"And, the woman all the girls want to be, and the one the men want to go out with then eventually cheat on her, ENVY ADAMS!"
The crowd bursts into frenzied cheers and whoops. The woman in question is wearing a very revealing outfit, neckline plunging halfway down her chest, but a criss cross pattern across it. Her high heels are clear, but lace up well into her upper thighs.
"She's...so...fabulous..." Kurt whispers, reaching a hand out and grasping thin air.
"Told you," Blaine chides, and Kurt responds by elbowing him in the side.
Envy approaches the mike, lips almost molesting it as she announces, "And now, it's time. Let's give a kick ass welcome to the SOAPY SOPRANOS."
The curtain rises, bringing to light a long line of the most conservative dressers in the history of show choir.
They begin to sway back and forth, crossing their arms across their stomach. They open their mouths to sing.
Sweet little bird in the morning
I cannot contain my love for good
Butterflies, please release
Life is so perfect
Kim Pine clutches her drumsticks, eyes going wide. There is something horribly, terribly going on here.
Blaine can't contain so much fluff...can't...take it...
I love myself, they echo.
Suddenly, the auditorium plunges in black, and flashing color lights flood the audience. Spotlights turn back to the stage, and the girls tear off their dresses, with a tight black jumpsuits underneath. No sleeves. The guys just tore off their shirts, with well toned muscles underneath.
The crowd. Went. Wild.
"THIS IS WHAT WE WERE WAITING FOR!" someone screeches.
I LOVE MYSELF, BECAUSE I'M SO DAMN HOT! The girls belt out, sticking out their chests and winking.
Everything is sexy-y-y,
and I can't stop looking at myself
in the goddamn mirror.
So love us 'cuz we're hot,
love us 'cuz you're not.
So go crazy, oh so crazy, for us,
and you won't be disappointed, oh, oh.
We can dance like there's no today,
we can blow your mind if you pay,
so love us 'cuz we're hot,
and love us 'cuz you're not.
Oh whoa, hey oh.
"This is making me extremely melancholy," Artie whines.
"THIS SUCKS!" Finn growls, clutching the side curtains.
"I suck, too," Wallace says, appearing behind them with a flirtatious smile. Finn cocks his head like a curious puppy, unsure what the adult is saying.
Soapy Sopranos exits stage right, audience all have wet their pants in excitement.
"It's a tough act to follow," Rachel announces. "But we can do it, guys!"
"They have an original song," Tina points out. "That's our thing!"
Santana furrows her eyebrows at the pamphlet sheet. "Who's on next, again-" she's interrupted by the Vocal Adrenaline coach shoving her out of the way, crossing his arms and staring lovingly out on the stage, where his students are lining up to sing.
"We are, bitch," he says. "Get ready to have your world rocked like a threesome."
And, in absolute horror, New Directions stares in horror at Vocal Adrenaline starts to sing. They're signing Sing. The My Chemical Romance one.
"That's what we were gonna sing!" Rachel protests.
"FUCK!" Santana shouts. "Santana gonna cut a bitch!"
STUFF STARTS HAPPENING
After Vocal whatever finally ends, The house lights go up, and the host approaches the mike again.
"Well, since things are getting a little too hot, we're going to have a brief intermission, with New Directions performing afterwards! But meanwhile, we have a band called the Sex Bombs-"
"SEX BOB-OMBS!" Stephan Stills calls from behind the curtain. New Directions finally notices the band setting up, and watch with curiosity.
"Whatever," the host says, eyes swimming. "The Sex Bob-Ombs will be playing their song 'Power Up 4 Me'. Visit the lovely lobby for refreshments!"
The lights go down again, and the spotlight is on the Sex Bob-Ombs. Scott gives his cocky grin, Kim glares, and Stephan Stills pulls at his collar. People begin to shuffle out.
Scott strums his bass, and a resounding G chord reverberates throughout. People pause, lingering.
"WE ARE THE SEX BOB-OMBS!" Kim begins, saying her natural line. She thumps her sticks together, giving a resounding, "ONE TWO THREE FOUR!"
You never even called me back
That night, you left
rushed thru that door
oh honey, please stop
The last I heard
drinking your life away,
selfish brats you all are.
Why the fuck do I care?
Why the fuck are you calling,
it's half past midnight,
and I can't even bother to pick up.
Little Miss brigade, power up 4 me,
I'd do it for me.
Earn those experience points baaaaby,
won't you come back to me baaaby?
Don't end this perfect game we have
oh come back to me
come play with me
level up with me,
power up 4 me!
New Directions gawks, listening closely at this rock capade.
"They. Rock," Puck whispers in awe.
"They kind've rock," Blaine says, still sitting in his seat. Kurt plops in the seat next to him, sipping a diet soda.
"What'd I miss?" he calls over the music.
Knives Chau gets those stars in her eyes, mouth parting open slightly.
I'll treat you right,
like I might,
you look so bright,
why the hell am I rhyming-
Screams pierce through the loud music, stopping all noise.
"VIRUS HAS HIT TORONTO!" Police officers yell, bursting in. People panic, scrambling to hit the doors. Kurt and Blaine fight against the current, trying to get to their friends backstage.
New Directions, Will Schuester, Sex Bob-Ombs, Envy Adams, Wallace, Kurt, Blaine, Neil, Knives, Ramona, and anyone else who matters all meet in center stage.
"Fuck," a voice says.
"It's the end of the world," Envy comments. Knives pulls her knife swords, scarf fluttering. Ramona fiddles with her bag zipper, ready to enter subspace at any moment.
"Well, let's get started," Wallace says casually.
"Team up?" Finn asks. "Like a video game."
"Like a damn survival," Mercedes says.
Scott pumps his fist. "LET'S GO!"
NEXT TIME: EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING