Driving Metal

*** Author's Note: This is the first in a three-part series about some other characters that inhabit Michael Moorwind's world. Eventually, the storylines might just run together, though it may take more than luck for it to happen. It might just take a bit of magic.***

Driving Metal - Part One: All That Glitters

~~ Billings, Montana, April 2068 ~~

"AND THANK YOU BILLINGS MONTANA!!!" Kyp screamed into the microphone as the crowd was going wild after nearly two hours of mostly non-stop metal. Fractal Oblivion had put on another great show. Mostly original songs with a few covers of some of their favorites by some classic rock bands of a couple of generations ago like Metallica, Motorhead, Breaking Benjamin, and some others. He led the other three off the stage, handing his guitar to one of the men there who gave him a fist bump.

"Great show today, Kyp," he said.

"Thanks, George. Good seeing you again. Say hello to Melanie for me and we'll see you again in... two months or so in Rapid City, yeah?"

"Yep. The Label's got us all covered for travel too," George replied.

"Awesome. Hey, thanks again," he clapped the older man on the shoulder, grabbed a cold water bottle, and cracked it open taking a long pull as he walked backstage to where the changing rooms were.

"Fuck...ing hell, that show was the bomb, brother!" his drummer was bouncing from the adrenaline next to him.

"Hell yeah it was, Hank. Good work, as always."

"I still can't believe this is us, now. From playing bars in the Twin Cities to... this!" he gestured back toward the stage.

"Pretty cool, don'tcha know?" he said in that Swedish drawl that so many native Minnesotans had.

Hank snorted. "Hey, you coming out with us tonight?"

"Nah, man. I'm gonna crash. I'm beat. And it's a long bus ride to Dallas from here," Kyp replied. "Take advantage of room service while I can, you know?" he winked at Hank.

"You could always fly like a normal person," Hank smirked at him.

"Hey fuck you, brother. All right? My bus gets me there just fine."

Hank put both his hands up in surrender and went off to find the rest of the band and figure out where they were going to go to celebrate. Kyp sighed, shaking his head. Yeah, he was a heavy metal rocker. But he wasn't about to go bar crawling or get wasted on drugs and chase pussy in every town. Just because he knew how to whale, it didn't mean he needed to stop being him. At least, that was what he told himself every day. Too many of his idols had problems later in life from living that hard. By god, it wasn't going to happen to him.

He quickly changed, putting his outfit in the wardrobe that the crew would collect and launder, and headed back to be led out to the armored car that he was led to by four massive security guards. The car took him to a hotel that the band had rented a complete floor on and they walked him inside and to his room. Inside a pizza, a two-liter of Mountain Dew, and a massive King bed awaited him. He wolfed down three slices and guzzled some of the soda before collapsing on the bed with a groan. In ten minutes flat, he was asleep, exhausted from the day's events.

++++++++++

Curled up in her chair, her fingers flying over the controls, she muttered, "Oh bloody bugger, get yer arse over here ye bludger." Her Australian accent was thick, "Nah, mate, that's a right swot." Several minutes passed as she stayed focused, flying then shooting down the enemy fighters.

"Wills, you still playing?" The grumpy old voice came from behind her, leaning against the wall. "You've got a hotel room."

"Hey Frank, aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She teased back, turning from the TV to look at him. "Nighttime is my time to shine."

"Yeah, I should be, but I think I'm getting old." He paused, "Might need to start thinking about retiring. Should I tell them you want to shift to days or stick with nights?"

"Six o' one, half dozen of another." Willow responded with a shrug, "I drive the bus, the wheels on the bus go round, everybody's shiny." She grinned up at him, then tilted her head, "How long?"

"Probably when we get to Dallas, maybe a little after." Frank responded, then yawned, "I'm tired and old, and the bathroom breaks are getting more necessary. Sides, the wife is ready for me to be home permanently again."

"Alright, then we're together at least till Dallas, then I'll throw you a hella big going away party, yeah?" She rose from her chair, "Going to miss you old man."

"Oh don't go getting all emotional, kid," he responded, hiding his own tears. "Yer still my kid, even if I didn't spawn you."

"Yes, Dad," she laughed, "Go get some sleep. You'll be driving in the morning."

"Fine, finish shooting up the bad guys." He patted her back, then headed back into the hotel, she watched him go, then leaped back on the TV to start shooting, her entire focus on winning the match. She would miss Frank.

++++++++++

The following day Frank cranked the engine, he could hear Willow snoring quietly from upstairs and chuckled softly as he pulled out with Kyp in the back. They had a long drive ahead of them and he marked where he would swap with Willow. Everything was quiet and he turned on his music in the cab, soft country filling the air.

Kyp stayed in the back of the bus for several hours before he finally came out. "Heya, Frank. Have a decent night at the hotel?"

"Yeah, I did," he responded, "It was nice, the bed was nice, the band was loud. I thought they were playing a porno for a bit, truth be told." He grinned at Kyp, "How are you doing?"

"Got some sleep... Didn't have to put up with the porno. God, you know... I love those guys, but it's a rough stereotype, man," he chuckled. "And they play... right... into it."

"Long as they're happy, yeah?" Frank responded, then patted the seat beside him. "Sit a spell, boss. Are you happy?"

He slid into the passenger seat. "Yeah. For the most part. I mean... I'm living the dream. I've always wanted to play the big stages, and I love the music." He threw his head back and sighed in pleasure, "God, I love the music..."

"That's always a bonus," Frank responded. The next several hours passed in quiet talk, Frank listening to him and giving him quiet encouragement. He watched as about two thirds through the day trip, he rose to go walk around some, they pulled into a restaurant and Frank disembarked to get food, putting Kyp's in his kitchen, then the one for Willow in the fridge for her to heat up when she woke up before eating his own. It wasn't long before they were back on the road again.

The sun set, then Frank heard Willow moving around, he listened as she ate, then pulled off so they could swap out. "Quiet so far, after band relaxation, see you in eight, kid." He patted her on the head, then went to his bed, passing out shortly after he laid down.

Willow finished eating, then fixed the seat, rolling her eyes, "Can't drive it from the back, Frank," she muttered under her breath and situated the steering wheel. "Stupid country crap." She flicked the switch and started playing her music, she kept it down but she beamed as the sound of drums and the riff of a steel guitar slid through the cab of the truck. She got on the road and sang along as she started driving.

Kyp woke up with a powerful craving. Ravenous. He got up, slipped on a shirt over his boxers, and went to his refrigerator. Grumbling tiredly when he didn't find what he was looking for he walked through the divider door and moved toward the other refrigerator, calling out, "Hey Frank? I don't suppose you have some Ben and Jerry's up...," he trailed off, looking to the driver's seat. It wasn't Frank.

"No, sir. Frank is lactose intolerant," was the soft voice of the petite female behind the wheel. She peeked in the rearview mirror, "And I'm afraid I've already eaten mine...," she trailed off with a shrug.

He blinked. "Where's Frank? And who are you?" He rubbed his eyes trying to wake himself up for an actual conversation.

"Sleepin', Sir." She responded, "I'm Willow Harris, your night driver." She flicked her gaze to him, then focused back on the road.

"Night driver?" he muttered before smacking his head. "Of course I have a night driver. Why the fuck wouldn't I have a night...," he trailed off. "I"m sorry, Willow. I am... apparently, a complete idiot. I'm Kyp. I generally try to meet everyone on the crew, but... Fucked that one right up, now didn't I," he smiled wryly at himself.

"No worries, Sir," she smiled at him, then focused on the road again, "You're usually sleeping when I'm up, and up when I'm sleeping." She paused, then glanced at the clock, "You were asking about Ben and Jerry's, I don't think anything would be open this time of night except a supermarket, but I can pull in and go get you some if you'd like. You'd just have to tell me what flavor you desired."

"No good. I don't know. So we go in together. We raid the Ben and Jerry's, and maybe some soda while we're at it, and then we get going again, yeah?" He walked back into the back, but didn't close the door and rummaged around to find some pants. "So, how long have you been driving the bus?"

"I've been a driver for six years, and yours for two, Sir," she blushed looking at his boxer-clad rear, then quickly snapped her gaze back to the road. She flicked her GPS on, "Rogue One, locate me the nearest open supermarket." The device beeped, and then lit up with instructions playing in her ear as she drove towards it.

He slid on a pair of comfortable jeans and some sneakers and put his wallet in his pocket. Walking back up he slid into the passenger seat and watched out the window with her. "Two years, huh? Well... that's not exactly the best impression I've ever made or the way I wanted to treat my crew."

She blinked, her head tilted slightly in confusion, "Sir?" She glanced at him, then flicked the signal to merge to the exit. "I am not sure what you mean."

"Willow... I make it a point to know everybody. Because here's the thing. This gig... this band... doesn't make it with just the four of us. There's a whole lot of overhead backing us up. Stage crews, sound, lights, freight, you and Frank, the studio guys, hell, even the record execs. Everyone has worked together to make the four of us a success. I'm grateful for that. Personally grateful." He paused, then continued, "So I figure the least I can do is get to know the people working with me as people and not just another... body. You know? You can call me Kyp by the way. Everyone does. I figure you all work so hard for us, there ought to be at least a little familiarity there." He chuckled, then added, "'sides. My Dad is 'Sir'."

Her nose crinkled, "Yes, Sir," she tilted her head, "But you have made a good impression, sir. Papa Frank speaks quite highly of you when we do the changeovers. Said he appreciates how easy you make it and how you're a good man." She gave him a sweet smile, then focused on easing into the supermarket parking lot, carefully parking the bus. "Are you sure you don't want me to just run in and get it, sir?"

"Kyp, Willow. Kyp. I'm just a guy, you know. Put my pants on one leg at a time and everything. And yes. I have no idea what I want, outside of some more Mountain Dew, so...," he trailed off, shrugging.

She bit her lower lip, indecision warring on her face for a moment, "I can't just call you by name... so a compromise, Master Kyp," she nodded firmly. "Alright, but I'm going to be staying right beside you and making sure you don't get pounced by any fans who want to steal your underwear or something."

"Steal my...," he started. "This isn't a prison. It's a supermarket..."

Her brow raised, and she replied, "Last year, two teenage females, one large male attempted to board to steal your boxers while you were in the hotel... It isn't a prison, but them people are crazy."

He blinked, then shook his head in amazement. "Of course, you're coming. I was going to get you some Ben & Jerry's too, but if it makes you feel better, you can protect my boxers... I guess," he offered.

"Yes, Master Kyp," she smiled up at him, and carefully turned off the engine, she pulled out her phone and typed a message on it. She hung the keys around her neck, then climbed out of the bus. When she was on the ground he discovered that she came to just above his breast bone.

He got out of the bus and sniffed the air, looking around. "Where are we, anyway?" he asked as they started toward the store.

"Lamar, Colorado, about two hours South East of Denver." She responded, "It's a Walmart, they're everywhere and usually have a Ben & Jerry's section."

"Works for me." He dropped his arm around her shoulder as they walked. "You're really not going to budge on the whole Kyp thing?"

"No, Sir. You can be Master Kyp," she responded. "My trainer would have words if I spoke to a dominant with less than proper respect."

"Oh...," he started before it registered what she had said. "OH! I... All right... yeah. That makes sense. All right. Fair compromise. Just...," he looked around. "Shit. All right. Just so you are aware, I wouldn't be at all surprised if the guys act a little weird about that. I'll try and deflect it some. They don't mean anything by it... I think... but I don't want you to get hurt or nothing..."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed with confusion, "Master Kyp, your bandmates don't even know I exist. Well, one might, but he was tripping pretty hard that evening so he might not."

"OK... but it's possible...," he trailed off. "No, you're probably right. You have to be pretty obvious with them about stuff," he nodded, conceding the point.

"Besides, why would they get weird, they've already got their bar crawls," she responded with logic, then loaded two cases of Mountain Dew into the buggy. "Let's go get the Ice Cream, we've got a few hundred miles yet to go."

They walked up to the freezer aisle and he winced inwardly as he passed a group of four girls whose eyes, then bodies followed them. At the ice cream section, he stood looking into the freezer trying to make up his mind. "Cookie dough? No... How about chocolate chip? No... Oooh. The Tonight Dough. That's the stuff." He glanced their way as one of them started giggling. "Help you?"

"Aren't you Kyp Goeffries? Fractal Oblivion?" one of them asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "No. I get that all the time, though. I could probably make a boatload selling autographs if I could write like him..." He turned back to the ice cream cabinet where Willow had put all three in the cart, three pints each. "Jeez... Trying to fatten me up?" he murmured with a chuckle and a smile.

She looked up at him and tilted her head, "No Master, this is my ice cream."

"Alrighty then...!" he laughed. "Come on. Let's get out of here." As they walked by, he murmured, "Bye, ladies."

"Yes, Master," she looped her arm in his, adding the final pint. She winked at the teenage girls, "Have a good night lovelies." When they followed, she pulled her wallet out and paid, shaking her head ever so slightly when he reached for his. She led him out and shoved him onto the bus before putting the Mountain Dew and Ice Cream on the steps and closing the door. She quickly climbed into the front, and before the teenagers made it out they were on the road. "You can put the ice cream up, Master Kyp, after you get which one you want to eat tonight."

"I was gonna pay for that. Company card," he groused as he put the ice cream in the fridge, keeping out one of the Tonight Dough pints and getting a spoon before he tossed himself into the passenger chair next to her.

"Yes, Master, but do me a favor and pull out your wallet," When he did so his ID was staring back at him, "Now, you tell those ladies you're not Kyp, but you pull out a wallet that has Kyp Goeffries on the ID and Kyp Goeffries on the credit card...," she trailed off with a brow raised.

He looked at his wallet, then back at her, grumbling as he put it away. "You know... this fame shit sucks sometimes... Try and buy a pretty girl some ice cream and the hoops you've got to jump through..." He stuck a bite of the ice cream in his mouth and around it said, "Pain in my ass."

"Well, I mean you did still pay for it. I used the company card, just mine has the name 'Willow Harris' on it." She grinned at him with a wink.

"Oh. Well, that's something, I suppose...," he murmured. "So... Willow Harris. As I drown my troubles in creamy, chocolaty goodness, tell me what I need to know about you."

Her nose crinkled slightly, "Well...," she trailed off, "I'm an orphan, Frank and his wife Alice pretty much adopted me. I'm a big gamer on our times off, occasionally write weird stories." She paused, "I'm not really that interesting of a person."

"What do you mean? All of that is interesting. So. Gamer. Talk to me. What kind of gaming?" he asked. She glanced at him skeptically and he looked innocently at her. "What? When I was in college, I was a huge gamer. Playstation, X-Box, hell... I even played some Dungeons & Dragons." She snorted, "Yeah. That."

"Well, when you're rocking the house and it's my turn on the bus, I typically play a lot of X-Com: Alien Invasion or HALO. My Xbox and my Playstation are my babies. When we're on non-tour I... may... just a little... have a regular TTRPG table to sit at."

He grinned. "Hell yeah you do, my geeky friend. That's awesome! We'll have to play some HALO sometime. I really like some of those. FPS's aren't my best games, but it's a hell of a lot of fun to blow shit up, you know what I mean?"

"You're on," she nodded, "I especially enjoy blowing up the little alien dudes, it's hilarious when they go flying." She paused, "I also have Mass Effect."

"Garrus is my boy," he said firmly. "Give that dude a sniper rifle and turn his ass loose."

"Hah, well yeah, but I loved Joker's sarcasm in the game. I got a kick out of Jack though. She's fun. Throw her in the middle of the fray and it's like a squirrel on crack." Willow responded, her nose crinkled then she giggled, "Of course, the game did prove the three truths of Humanity."

"Fight, Flee, or Fuck," he observed. "Anything with two legs. God, we're so ridiculous as a species..."

"Two legs my ass. Rule 34, Master Kyp. Rule 34. One word, all the ick... tentacles." Willow responded as she pressed the button for cruise control and sat back, stretching her toes out with a groan of pleasure.

He stuffed another bite in his mouth. "Fair. There are some pretty... strange corners of the internet..."

"Japan," was her response, then she looked at him, "Good Ice Cream?"

"You bet. Want a bite?" He scooped some on his spoon and held it out to her.

She blinked, then opened her mouth so he could feed her, "Yes, please."

He fed her the bite of ice cream and she closed her eyes, releasing an almost pornographic groan of pleasure. "I know, right?" he asked. "Shit should be illegal."

"No, because then I'd have to hide it in the closet along with my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies," she responded.

He chuckled. "So what's your guy think of you hanging out with a rock band while we're on tour?" he asked.

"I am neither collared nor claimed, Master Kyp, so I don't have a guy to think of my hanging out with a rock band." She responded easily, tilting her chin slightly and tapping her bare neck.

"How the hell is that even possible? You're like... the perfect girl. Gamer, great taste in food. Fun to talk to. Sarcastic..." He sat back incredulously, stunned.

"Well, one, I spend two to three months touring with a rock band and it pleases me to do so. Two, I'm not inclined to share with other females, so when the Master that was going to be my Master decided that two was more fun than just me, I bounced. Three, I'm not seeking a bedroom Master, I want a forever, all the time Master." She grinned at him, then reached over and poked his knee, "More ice cream please, Master Kyp."