The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
Rex stood in the middle of their modest living room, his newly bought black electric guitar slung over his shoulder — the same one he bought just weeks ago with the last of his savings. His fingers rested on the fretboard, poised like a gunslinger at high noon.
The others sat in a half-circle: Ash on the couch with a toothpick in his mouth, Silas leaned forward on a stool with arms on his knees, and Kai sprawled on the beanbag chair, arms crossed. All eyes were locked on him.
"You said this one's heavier?" Ash asked, brow raised.
Rex didn't answer. He simply adjusted the strap, took a breath, and muttered to himself, "Let's just say I got inspired by the gods of heavy music."
He closed his eyes, letting the silence stretch. Then—
DUN-DUN. DUN-DA-DUN.
The intro riff of Seek and Destroy pierced the still air. Sharp. Aggressive. Familiar to Rex — alien to everyone else.
The room trembled as the raw crunch of the palm-muted power chords filled the space. His pick struck with precision, metronome-perfect timing, but the emotion behind each stroke was anything but mechanical. His fingers glided down the neck, carving that signature tone into reality.
No distortion pedals. No amp modeling. Just raw talent, a killer guitar tone — and the soul of someone who'd lived this song in another world.
He played through the intro twice, locking into that pulsing rhythm. Then came the verse riff, galloping and relentless, his right hand moving like a machine gun.
Kai's eyebrows shot up.
Still, no one spoke.
Rex stepped forward, planting one foot like he was already on a stage. His voice dropped low, gritty.
> "We're scanning the scene in the city tonight…"
"We're looking for you, to start up a fight…"
His vocal tone matched the song's attitude — no flashy screams, just raw power and sneering defiance. He wasn't trying to be James Hetfield. He was Rex Kade — and this version of the song was his.
Silas unconsciously tapped his foot.
The chorus exploded.
> "SEEK AND DESTROY!"
He didn't hold back. Every time he hit those two words, the room felt like it cracked open. The band members sat stunned, not because of the volume — but because of the energy. This wasn't a song.
It was a battle cry.
Rex kept going. Every transition between riffs was seamless. The bridge riff came in — slow, heavy, stalking — then ramped back up to that frantic verse rhythm.
Halfway through, sweat beaded on his forehead. His left hand cramped slightly but he didn't stop. This wasn't just a performance. It was warfare.
The solo came.
And that's when everything else faded.
Rex leaned into it, bending strings with precision, sliding up and down the fretboard like a man possessed. His fingers blurred as they danced across the strings, every note cutting through the air with surgical precision. He wasn't showing off.
He was declaring intent.
He wanted the world to feel this.
The final chorus hit even harder.
> "There is no escape and that's for sure…"
"This is the end, we won't take any more…"
> "SEEK… AND… DESTROY!!!"
His foot slammed down on the pedalboard, pushing the final notes through with raw distortion. The outro riff circled around, the song's fangs still bared, even as the last note rang out and faded into silence.
He let the guitar hang at his side, chest rising and falling.
Nobody spoke.
Ash blinked slowly, toothpick now snapped in two between his fingers.
Silas stared like he'd just seen the ghost of rock and roll past — and future.
Kai sat up from the beanbag, mouth slightly open.
But Rex didn't say a word.
He unplugged the guitar, coiled the cable, and laid the guitar gently in its stand.
Then he looked at them, stone-faced.
"We're releasing this next."
He didn't wait for a response.
He left the room and let the silence do the talking.
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