The intro to Bad Dream thrums through the monitors. A deep, synthetic pulse. Gambit's opening riff cuts through it, sharp and electric, and Wemmbu steps forward, his silhouette framed by purple backlighting. He's all long hair and leather jacket, a smirk already playing on his lips as he scans the crowd like he owns every single one of them.

Y/n's cue is coming up. The backing track shifts, the bass drops, and the stage lights flicker to a deep crimson. Wemmbu's amber eyes slide sideways over the fretboard of Gambit, catching Y/n for just a fraction of a second. There's something sharp in that look. Something calculated.

The moment is almost here. The moment where the two voices are meant to merge. The moment where Wemmbu has something planned that wasn't in any rehearsal.