Riff’s shiny, orange-and-brown Woody stood out in stark contrast to the post-apocalyptic black-on-gray/black deathrace vehicles roaming the streets of the city. They parked the Woody and began looking around. It didn’t take them long to attract the attention of the local gentry.
“Well, well. What do we have here?” asked a metalhead tough.
“Outsiders!” announced another. “What an unusual sight here in our metal community. What are you two doing here?”
“We’re up to something kinda strange,” replied Riff. “We’re looking for Jupiter’s magic guitar…”
“Jupiter’s guitar… in Metalopolis?” the second tough responded. “Look around: this isn’t hillbilly country…”
“Who sent you here?” inquired another tough.
“We’re here on our own,” replied Bubblegum. “You may be aware there’s a theory that Jupiter’s guitar wound up here in Metalopolis.”
“…and it was destroyed by Desmond Yard. Blown up…” said the metalhead. “Yes, we’ve seen the vid…”
“Yep,” replied Riff. “We’re trying to figure out if there’s anything to it…”
A Metalopolitan police officer arrived in a levitating squad car.
“I don’t believe it was Jupiter’s actual guitar,” said Officer Kite. She had obviously been listening to the conversation. A multi-colored shoulder badge revealed her high rank.
Years earlier, throughout Rocklantia, the Ministry of Song had replaced local law enforcement with MOS police: the National Civilian Security Force. Metalopolis, however, had refused to cooperate and continued to boast its own police agency. Metalhead officers wore black-leather, spiky uniforms and modified Viking helmets.
Officer Kite was sporting heavy eyeliner with vertical streaks. “Listen, we have instructions to report any unusual visits such as this directly to Mayor Cobalt. Your questions about the magic guitar will no doubt pique his interest.”
This didn’t sound good to the couple. The Metalopolitan mayor was known for his bouts of instability.