Chapter Text
The group gathered together at the back of the stage. They were adorned with their costumes, but they acted as though they were not. The first person to step up was Booth, wearing his deep cerulean costume.
"Alright, boys! We're gonna have to practice our vocals. Now, who wants to sing first....oh, who am I kidding? I'm gonna sing first!" Booth said. He stepped forward, and breathed in. He then started dancing and breathed out. "How's the guy able to hold his breath for that long?" Oswald wondered to himself, to which Czolgosz responded, "It is because he died, Lee." Czolgosz suddenly turned back to the direction of the door and started walking out for a break. "Where are you going, Coal-gosh?" Guiteau exclaimed. "We have work to do! You shouldn't miss it!" Czolgosz walked back to the stage.
Booth beckoned the other assassins to come to the center of the stage. The others walked up to Booth's direction, each with their own outfits. The 4 all sung a cover of I Want It That Way by the Backstreet Boys as practice, as they danced elaborately. The show ended with Booth singing the final line, with the others harmonizing with him.
"Wow. We really outdid ourselves there," Guiteau said, in-between sighs and gasps for air. "John's moves were especially graceful! Isn't that right?"
"I'm rather surprised you didn't mispronounce my name, Charles," Booth snarkily remarked. "And why is that?" Guiteau responded. "Well....nevermind," Booth said.
Oswald looked at the two confusedly, asking, "Why are you calling each other by name?" He didn't pay much attention to when they referred to each other normally (a.k.a. by last name), but this was a strange change for him.
Guiteau walked to the front stage to practice his shameless plug for his book, when he suddenly tripped over a guardrail and fell on the ground. Booth watched in concern, Oswald in mild surprise (at best) as Guiteau got up. Czolgosz was the only one who did not seem concerned at all with Guiteau's accident, as he was too engrossed in the situation that he just so happened to be in.
Czolgosz's costume had somehow ripped and fallen apart completely. What was once a sparkling costume with sequins and trinkets was now a pile of mismatched fabric and other things. He was obviously disappointed with his costume's current state, as he had headed to the back of the stage, sat down and just watched Booth and Oswald help Guiteau up.
As Guiteau walked up to the stage, he dusted himself off, grabbed a copy of one of his books from the shelf that just so happened to be next to him. Oswald, now exhausted, said, "Maybe we should take a break-"
"We aren't even finished yet," Booth interrupted sharply. Oswald responded, "Not finished yet? We just did an hour worth of dancing-"
"Choreography," Booth said, at the same time Oswald said "dancing."
"Singing-" Oswald said, before being interrupted by Booth saying, "Vocal warm-ups."
"-and another hour worth of practicing that song we did! One song!" Oswald snapped back. "Why are you so obsessed with grammar all of a sudden?"
Booth and Oswald quickly shifted the argument's focus from the state of rehearsals to grammatical errors, then back to how rehearsals were going. Guiteau loudly rambled on about how God endorsed his book and for everybody to buy it, while Czolgosz just sulked in the shadows.
Right when it seemed that things couldn't possibly get any worse, the Balladeer walked in and asked if he could play a tune for the group. Despite the four men's pleading for the Balladeer to not even think about opening the case of that damn guitar, he did open the case of his guitar and started strumming. This time however didn't seem to follow how his music would normally go, going at a faster tempo than usual.
First, it was G minor. Booth, Czolgosz, and Oswald looked at the Balladeer angrily; Guiteau gave the Balladeer a glare and shook his head in disapproval. The Balladeer started to open his mouth to sing a poem he made, which only aggravated the four men more.
"A day without me--"
Not even a full lyric into his song, the Balladeer was tackled to the ground by Czolgosz. He stood over the Balladeer, snatched the guitar and pick from his hands, and played the guitar so roughly and harshly that, with pure strength, he somehow managed to break all the strings. He handed the Balladeer back his now broken guitar after spitting on it. "Never play another song again. Ever," Czolgosz harshly ordered.
"Tough crowd, eh?" the Balladeer teased, after standing up. Czolgosz was ready to pull his gun out and shoot the Balladeer (which would work had the Balladeer not been a metaphysical manifestation of the American Dream that can only be "killed" if people stop believing in it). "I'm just...gonna...wait until you're done," the Balladeer said.
By the time the 4 had warmed up fully, they were ready to sing, when the Balladeer had another suggestion.
"Oh my God, what is it now?" Oswald groaned. Guiteau, as expected, would gasp and lecture Oswald on how awful it is to use the Lord's name in vain. Though Oswald honestly couldn't care less about what Guiteau had to say, the look on the Balladeer's face convinced him that what the Balladeer had to say was not going to be good.
"I was just thinking that maybe you could...add a fifth member...possibly-"
"NO." the four men immediately responded. "Now, what are we waiting for everyone?" Booth said.
Following a long routine of rehearsals, Booth suggested that the four be arranged in a pose that looked somewhat like this: Booth's right arm was behind his back, and he was pointing left; Guiteau was pointing right with his left arm and his right; Czolgosz and Oswald were in the exact same formation, but both pointed like how anybody else would normally point, and they were situated in a sort of 'perpendicular' way.
"This is the pose we're gonna do after the encore, and then stand side by side, everyone," Booth said. "How do you know that people are gonna ask for an encore?" Oswald asked, to which Booth responded, "Oh, I just know, Lee. I just know."
"That was weird," Czolgosz muttered. "Yeah. I kinda agree," The Balladeer responded. "Nobody cares what you think, Balladeer," Czolgosz snapped back.