Joy looked at the stage, slightly surprised. Unlike most of the performances he had seen in recent days, this band had something… strange.
Not strange in a bad way — but different.
To start with, there were only two members.
The first to catch his attention was the guitarist: a boy who looked no older than eighteen. Slim, messy black hair, a worn leather jacket and ripped jeans. He held a red guitar, marked by time, with the same firmness and devotion of someone holding something too precious to let go.
The second member was a girl, probably around the same age. A loose black T-shirt with the words "Feel the Chaos" printed in red, under a denim jacket. Black pants, sunglasses with red lenses reflecting the stage lights. Her posture was ambiguous — it was impossible to tell if she was nervous or simply indifferent.
Joy frowned. This didn't look like the typical lineup of a pop or traditional music festival. Yet there was something in the way they moved, adjusting cables and testing instruments, that kept him watching.
On his shoulder, Morpeko fidgeted, as if sensing something was about to happen.
Joy had taken a whole week off just to attend the festival. He was enjoying it, yes, but something was missing. The indie bands had been fun, but far from memorable. He wanted something different — something that would make his heart race.
Without realizing it, he already had his smartphone in hand, scrolling through social media.
Then, a sound cut through the air.
Dun... dun... dun-dun… DUNNNNNNN…
Deep. Metallic. Drawn out. A sound that silenced conversations and made heads turn. Joy instantly stopped scrolling. Morpeko froze, ears perked.
The riff repeated. Slow. Heavy.
Nothing like anything Joy had ever heard.
Among the crowd, uncertain glances were exchanged. Some leaned forward, as if trying to feel the sound more closely.
The guitarist — Edward — stepped up to the microphone. His voice came out deep, almost like he was telling a forbidden story.
— I am Iron Man…
Joy didn't immediately understand the meaning, but the words carried weight.
The audience seemed to be witnessing the introduction of a dark legend. Some young people whispered, wondering if "Iron Man" was a Trainer… or perhaps a metallic Pokémon like Metagross or Registeel.
— Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind?
Alyssa came in with the drums, and the weight of the sound hit the audience like a physical blow to the chest. Joy felt his body react before he even thought about it — feet tapping, heart racing.
Pokémon began to react instinctively: a Loudred nodded its head, a Toxtricity let out sparks in sync with the beat, and even an Absol, previously indifferent, raised its head and fixed its gaze on the stage.
— Now the time is here for Iron Man to spread fear…
The music wasn't cheerful. It was intense, almost threatening. And somehow, that only amplified the good tension running through the crowd.
During the instrumental chorus, the guitar roared. Alyssa, with her red shades reflecting the lights, pounded the drums like the heartbeat of iron itself. The sound seemed to vibrate in the air, piercing through skin and bone.
Morpeko jumped from Joy's shoulder to the ground, spinning to the rhythm. Other Pokémon joined in: a Hitmonlee stomped its foot, a Primeape bounced restlessly, and even a Machamp swayed, arms crossed but clearly absorbing the energy.
When Edward sang — Nobody wants him, they just turn their heads — the audience fell silent. They began to understand the tragedy of this figure: rejected, feared… now seeking revenge.
The music stopped being just sound — it became a story.
Even older Trainers, used to ballads and classic anthems, were transfixed, trying to make sense of what they were hearing.
The riff sped up, the drums exploded, and Edward leaned forward, tearing a final scream from the guitar.
Two seconds of silence.
— I am Iron Man…
Those words echoed in Joy's mind long after the song ended.
He glanced at the crowd: many frowned, trying to piece together the story of the man turned to iron. Some were fascinated, as if each verse was a spell. Others were uneasy, exchanging quick glances as if the lyrics were too dangerous for that setting.
With every riff, the energy rose. Edward wasn't just singing — he was becoming the song. In the chorus, the microphone nearly spat pure rage.
At the back, a boy with a cap pulled low smiled with a malicious glint in his eyes, still nodding to the rhythm. Up front, a group of Trainers exchanged nervous looks, as if they were somewhere they weren't supposed to be.
Joy realized: this wasn't just music. It was something that stirred people deep inside.
When the last note echoed, the silence was almost as heavy as the sound. A single beat of stillness — then applause mixed with shouts and whistles. Not the polite applause given out of courtesy; this was charged with adrenaline, like the rush after a battle.
Joy took a deep breath, heart pounding. He looked at Edward and saw a discreet, satisfied smile — as if he had just proven that his world and Joy's could indeed share the same stage.
He didn't know exactly what he had just heard.
But he knew, without a doubt, that he would never forget it.