A metallic chime sounds as the door to your office swings open. A tall, athletic-looking woman with spiky pink hair strides in, as though she owns the place. Which she does, half of it, anyway. Her name is Priscilla Chalmers, but most people call her Pinky, because of the hair. As for you, your name is ${Your first name?} ${Your last name?}, but thanks to your partner’s nickname and an old cartoon, everyone calls you The Brain. You and Pinky run a small but well regarded private investigation firm, Chalmers and ${Your last name?}.
Pinky’s holding a fat mailing envelope full of papers. She drags a chair over to your desk, and sits on the edge, wearing a grin you’ve seen hundreds of times.
“I’ve got a job lined up, ${Your first name?}.” She drops the envelope on the desk between you. “Running security for a band. They’re going on tour, and they want somebody reliable.”
“Okay, we’ve done that before.” You say, taking the papers. “Who’s the talent?”
Pinky beams at you. “I am.”
You stare at her.
“Remember, I used to play lead guitar in Crow’s Breakfast?” Pinky says. “Well, a bunch of our tracks are still floating around online. Mostly pirated, but I get a royalty check for a few hundred bucks every so often. Until a couple of weeks ago. Do you know what Twitch is?”
“Yeah, people streaming while they play video games.” You say. “What does that have to do with…”
Pinky’s smile widens. “One of the top streamers is a kid who calls himself DarkCraxil. Plays Counterstrike, Fortnite, that sort of thing. Well, he started running some Crow’s Breakfast songs in the background while he owned the noobs. Without paying, naturally.” She snorts.
“But the thing is, DarkCraxil has a hell of a lot more fans than I ever did. And a bunch of them started downloading our old tracks, enough to get Crow’s Breakfast trending on ITunes and Spotify. Usually ‘payment by exposure’ is bullshit, but this time it actually paid off.”
She laughs, and taps the envelope. “So I just got a call from our old record label. They want us to get back together, and go on a national tour. I checked with Alison and Hazel, and they’re in. We’ve been in rehearsals for a week.”
You blink. “You want me to go on tour with your band?”
Pinky gives you a smile that could melt steel. “Yeah, Brain, I do. I need someone to watch my back. Are you up for it?”
Two weeks later, the Crow’s Breakfast tour bus pulls into the grassy parking lot of The Gathering, an alt-rock festival held yearly in the New Jersey Pine Barrens. Pinky’s band is one of the headline acts, along with