Chapter 2: Viral Sparks
The morning sun sliced through the blinds of Sam's Echo Park apartment, casting jagged shadows across the cluttered living room. Empty pizza boxes and Red Bull cans littered the coffee table, relics of late-night sessions with his roommates. Sam sat cross-legged on the sagging couch, laptop balanced on his knees, eyes locked on the TikTok app. His teaser clip of "Faded Whispers" had exploded to 150,000 views by 7 a.m., with comments flooding in faster than he could read.
"Bro, this is gonna be huge," said Marcus, his roommate and a part-time DJ, leaning over Sam's shoulder. Marcus was a lanky guy with dreads and a perpetual grin, always spinning at dive bars on the Sunset Strip. "That melody? Straight-up heartbreaker. You gotta drop the full track, like, yesterday."
Sam rubbed his bleary eyes. He'd barely slept, too wired from the system's prompts and the adrenaline of going viral. "Yeah, but I need a plan. Eclipse is already sniffing around. Got a cease-and-desist text last night."
Marcus snorted, flopping onto the couch with a bag of Cheetos. "Screw Eclipse. They're just mad you ain't their puppet anymore. Post the whole song on SoundCloud. Let the fans decide."
The idea was tempting. Sam's fingers hovered over his laptop, where the Hitmaker System's interface glowed faintly on his screen. It had updated overnight: "Mission Progress: 25%. Objective: Release full version of 'Faded Whispers' and achieve 50,000 streams within 48 hours. Reward: Mixing Module Unlock (Level 1)."
He'd spent hours after the coffee shop tinkering with the track, using the system's eerie AI tools to polish the mix. The software suggested subtle reverb tweaks and EQ adjustments that made the vocals shimmer like a professional studio cut. It was uncanny, like having a Grammy-winning engineer in his pocket. The lyrics, too, felt like they came from somewhere deeper than his own mind:
Whispers in the wind, carried away, Promises we made, now in decay. Faded like the stars at dawn's first light, Left me here alone, in endless night.
Every line was a jab at Lily—her betrayal, her cold email, the way she'd traded their late-night dreams for red-carpet photo ops. But it wasn't just personal. The system had flagged the song's "emotional resonance" as universal, predicting it'd hit hard with anyone who'd ever been burned by love or ambition.
"Alright," Sam said, resolve hardening. "Let's do this."
He uploaded the full three-minute track to SoundCloud, linking it to his TikTok and Instagram. The caption was simple: "Faded Whispers. For anyone who's been broken but keeps building. #IndieVibes #NewMusic." He hesitated over the "post" button, heart thumping. Eclipse's threat loomed, but screw it. They couldn't own his soul.
Click.
The upload bar filled. Within minutes, notifications pinged. Shares on Twitter—X now, he reminded himself—Instagram Reels, even YouTube reaction channels. A small-time influencer with 10k followers stitched his TikTok, crying on camera: "This song GETS it. Who hurt you, dude? 😭"
Sam grinned, but tension coiled in his gut. Viral was one thing; staying alive in the industry was another. Eclipse had lawyers who could bury him in paperwork, and Lily's team was probably watching. He needed allies.
Enter Mia Torres.
Sam met Mia at a dive bar gig six months ago, back when he was still riding high on Lily's early success. Mia was a singer-songwriter, 26, with a smoky voice and a knack for folk-pop that reminded him of Joni Mitchell with a modern edge. Her dark curls and sharp wit had caught his eye, but he'd been too wrapped up in Lily to notice her as more than a collaborator. Now, single and burned, he remembered her texting him after the breakup: "Heard about you and Lily. You okay? Wanna jam sometime?"
He shot her a message: "Hey, Mia. Dropped a new track. Could use your ear. You free today?"
Her reply was instant: "Hell yeah, Sam! Saw your TikTok. That song's a banger. Meet me at The Roxy, 2 p.m.?"
The Roxy was a legendary spot on the Sunset Strip, a gritty venue where bands like The Doors had cut their teeth. It was also neutral ground—no Eclipse execs lurking. Sam showered, threw on a faded Nirvana tee and jeans, and grabbed his guitar case. The system dinged as he left: "Bonus Objective: Collaborate with a new artist. Reward: Songwriting Inspiration (Level 1)."
The Roxy's interior smelled of stale beer and history. Soundcheck was in full swing, some punk band thrashing through a set. Mia was at a corner table, nursing a Coke, her acoustic guitar propped against the wall. She waved him over, her smile warm but cautious.
"Sam Rivers, the viral sensation," she teased, pushing a chair out with her boot. "That track's got everyone on X losing their minds. What's the story?"
Sam slid into the seat, setting his case down. "Long story short? Lily dumped me, Eclipse stole my work, and I found some… weird tech that's helping me fight back."
Mia raised an eyebrow. "Weird tech? Like, autotune on steroids?"
He laughed, dodging the specifics. The system felt too bizarre to explain, like admitting he was hearing voices. "Something like that. Point is, I'm done playing by their rules. Wanna hear the full track?"
She nodded, pulling out AirPods. Sam played "Faded Whispers" from his phone, watching her reaction. Mia closed her eyes, swaying slightly, lips moving as if tasting the lyrics. When it ended, she whistled low.
"Damn, Sam. That's raw. Like, Adele-meets-Bon Iver raw. You wrote this post-breakup?"
"Yeah. It's… personal."
She leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Lily's loss. But you know Eclipse won't let this slide. They're sharks. My old band got screwed by a label like that—lost our masters, broke up."
Sam clenched his jaw. "I got a text last night. Cease and desist. They're claiming my sound's too close to their 'property.'"
Mia scoffed. "Property? They don't own heartbreak. You need to double down. Drop another track, maybe a duet. Show 'em you're not scared."
The idea sparked. The system's bonus objective flashed in his mind. "You up for it? A collab, I mean. Something quick, lo-fi, to keep the momentum."
Her grin was wicked. "Thought you'd never ask. Got any ideas?"
The system hummed, feeding him a fragment: a mid-tempo duet, acoustic guitar and harmonies, about two people finding strength after betrayal. He scribbled lyrics on a napkin:
We're the sparks in the dark, burning bright, Two lost souls, taking flight. They can't break what we make, you and me, Rising up, setting free.
Mia read it, nodding. "Kinda folky, but it works. Let's jam."
They moved to a small rehearsal room backstage, where Mia's guitar met Sam's laptop setup. The system's tools guided him—suggesting a capo on the third fret, a tempo of 85 BPM. Their voices blended, her alto grounding his tenor. By 5 p.m., they had a rough demo: "Sparks in the Dark."
"Let's record it tonight," Mia said, eyes alight. "My friend's got a home studio in Silver Lake. No label BS, just us."
Sam hesitated. Eclipse's threat loomed, but the system's counter ticked: "Streams: 30,000. Time remaining: 36 hours." He was halfway to the mission goal. "Let's do it."
The Silver Lake studio was a garage packed with mics and monitors, run by Mia's friend, a chill guy named Leo who mixed hip-hop on the side. They laid down the track in three hours, the system subtly enhancing the mix—crisper highs, warmer lows. Mia's harmonies gave it soul, like a campfire singalong with edge.
By midnight, they uploaded "Sparks in the Dark" to SoundCloud, tagging it across platforms. The caption: "Collab with @MiaTorresMusic. For the fighters. #IndieRebels."
Sam crashed at home, phone buzzing with notifications. By dawn, the duet had 20,000 streams, climbing fast. X posts raved: "Sam and Mia are the duo we didn't know we needed!" "This slaps harder than Eclipse's whole catalog."
But trouble brewed. A new email from Eclipse's legal team: "Cease distribution of unauthorized tracks or face litigation." Attached was a list of alleged similarities between "Faded Whispers" and Lily's hits—none of which held water, but the threat was clear.
Marcus, scrolling X, laughed. "They're scared, man. Your streams are eating their lunch."
Sam's phone lit up with a system alert: "Mission Progress: 45%. Warning: External resistance detected. Counter-strategy: Amplify fan support."
He smirked. The fans were his shield now. But as he refreshed X, a new post caught his eye—from Lily Voss herself: "New music soon. Stay tuned, loves. 💫 #StarlightReturns"
The game was escalating. Sam cracked his knuckles, ready for round two.