The whole crew crowded backstage, buzzing from the aftershock of Chris Cornell's set. The crowd had roared until the very last note, and even after he stepped offstage, they were still screaming for more. Chris looked wiped but lit up, practically glowing from adrenaline.
They stuck around to watch the rest of the lineup, riding the high until the final encore closed the night. Later, back at the hotel, everyone cleaned up and met again at a restaurant nearby, one James had secretly told Joseph Kennedy Sr. to rent out for the night.
Food and drinks flowed like a river. Platters didn't stop coming, and the bar? Open. Forever. It was the kind of night people would half-remember but never forget.
By midnight, most of the staff, the hired band, and even Chris Cornell were completely gone, laughing too loud, hugging too long, stumbling back to their hotel rooms in various stages of blissed-out drunkenness.
James, though, stayed sober. He didn't touch a single drop. The hangovers weren't worth it, especially when he remembered just how brutal they could be from his past life. As for Joseph Kennedy Sr., well, being a system-bound relic from a different time meant he didn't need food or booze... but he took a few sips anyway. Just to join in.
///////////////////////////////////NEXT SCENE///////////////////////////////////
Back in his hotel room, James collapsed onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, soft mattress, cold sheets, and that perfect post-victory stillness.
Then the system talked.
A soft glow lit up the room as a hologram hovered above his head.
[CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR LABEL'S FIRST EVER MAJOR CONCERT EVENT!]
[YOU HAVE BEEN AWARDED A 1 STAR ITEM CARD!]
James blinked. 'Oh? A reward already? Gimme the goods system! Please tell me it's not just a T-shirt.'
He laughed and tapped the air.
He quickly pulled out the bronze card and activated it.
[YOU HAVE ACQUIRED A 1 STAR PLUNDER CARD!]
His eyes widened. 'A Plunder card? No way… Wait, what's the catch with a 1-star?'
The system answered him.
[1-STAR PLUNDER CARD ALLOWS YOU TO ACCESS COMPLETE INFORMATION OF MINOR FUTURE CONTENT — ALBUMS, EPs, MOVIES, BOOKS, TECH, ETC., FROM YOUR ORIGINAL TIMELINE.]
'Dude! That's huge! I could feed Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau a whole-ass movie project with this!'
'Damn… what should I choose if I activate this card? Wait… after completing the music videos, Friedrich Wilhelm Murnau does not have anything to do for the meantime… maybe… well.. I got the funds I should plunder for a movie that he could direct.'
James activated the card and selected the [MOVIES] category, then he flicked through the holographic list like a kid in a candy store. Names of the movies popped up one by one:
[The Goonies] [1985]
[Heathers] [1989]
[The Return of the Living Dead] [1985]
[Re-Animator] [1985]
[Pee-wee's Big Adventure] [1985]
[Manhunter] [1986]
[River's Edge] [1986]
[Blue Velvet] [1986]
[Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer] [1986]
[Sex, Lies, and Videotape] [1989]
[The Toxic Avenger] [1986]
[Night of the Creeps] [1986]
[Clue] [1985]
[From Beyond] [1986]
James hovered on The Goonies, grinning. 'Yup. That's it. A perfect starter film. Nostalgic. Wild. And people are gonna eat this up.'
He selected it.
Suddenly, his mind lit up—like someone had uploaded the entire DVD box set and bonus features directly into his brain. Storyboards, behind-the-scenes details, casting notes—everything.
"Damn! That was fast… that's what she said," he muttered with a dumb grin.
Then came the system again:
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRANSFER THE FULL PRODUCTION DETAILS TO YOUR 5 STARS ARTIST: FRIEDRICH WILHELM MURNAU?]
'I could do that!?'
[YES]
'Then you bet your ass I do.'
[TRANSFER COMPLETED]
'Again, that was fast… Ah!! Shut up, mind!'
'Well, I will call him tomorrow and once we're done with the music videos, I'll hand over the budget to make the goonies just like how it was made.'
///////////////////////////////////NEXT SCENE///////////////////////////////////
But the system wasn't done yet. After a few while, it talked.
[CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR ARTIST'S SUCCESSFUL MAJOR CONCERT!]
[AUDIENCE APPROVAL RATING: 85%]
[AUDIENCE SIZE: 60,000~]
[YOU HAVE BEEN AWARDED A $5,100,000 MONEY BAG!]
'That's a lot! That's more than what I earned from Chris Cornell's last 2 months of touring!'
James felt like jumping on the bed when he saw the reward money he got from the concert.
'Well… even after deducting the budget that I will allocate for the goonies, I will still have some left! This is still good!'
///////////////////////////////////NEXT SCENE///////////////////////////////////
Back again after Chris Cornell's performance at the "Day on the green #2" concert.
Backstage was still humming from the roar of the crowd when Chris Cornell stepped off the ramp, sweat dripping down his chest, hair plastered to his face. A roadie handed him a water bottle, but before he could even crack it open, a voice boomed from behind, "Yo, kid!"
It was Phil Mogg from UFO, still in his stage leathers, eyes wide. "What the hell was that, mate? That voice, Jesus, man… like Plant got locked in a haunted house and loved it."
He slapped Chris Cornell on the back hard enough to almost knock the bottle out of his hand. "That 'Beyond the Wheel' joint? You had people lookin' around like the second coming showed up early."
Next up was Gary Richrath from REO Speedwagon, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a grin that said more than words. "I've been doing this for a minute, and lemme tell you, we don't usually get openers who make the damn sky nervous."
He tapped ash on the concrete. "You got a freight train in that throat, kid."
Chris Cornell just chuckled and muttered something awkward, brushing his hair out of his face. He wasn't used to this kind of attention, not from the legends anyway. But it wasn't over.
Two guys from 38 Special strolled over with beers in hand. One of them, Don Barnes, nodded with respect. "You're loud as hell, man. That 'Hunted Down' cut? Gritty. Raw. Didn't know Seattle was makin' noise like that yet."
Then came the unexpected, someone from Epic Records, a woman in boots and a tour pass swinging from her neck, leaned in and said, "No bullshit, we had a guy from A&R next to me during your set. He didn't blink once. Thought he was about to cry when you hit that scream at the end. You're not just noise, you're something."
Even one of the grumpy stagehands, who'd been running around all day yelling at people about mic cables, gave him a thumbs-up and muttered, "That was some Sabbath-level possession shit, Cornell."
Chris Cornell looked around, half stunned, half floating, like it hadn't quite hit him yet. All he could do was laugh nervously, mumble "Thanks, man," and take a long drink of that water he'd forgotten about.
Somewhere down the hallway, someone from Jem Records was already calling New York. "Yeah, yeah, the kid's real. Start pressing more vinyl!"