Dim's arrival was something similar to the absolute conquest of Hades, god of the underworld. He was drunk, angry, and very eager to offer a helping hand to Click's depression. By now, said depression had literally grown a life of it's own and was in the process of slowly strangling the life out of its owner, but Dim could always assist in the acceleration of Click's madness.
There was no advanced warning to his advance. In the middle of one of Jerry's more vicious streaks of guitar work, the garage door was flung open with enough force to smash it into the wall and smash some of the framework. The music stopped in the same moment, as Dim bore down, looking furious to the point of uncontrollable. There was no time for anybody to react. Jerry turned to face this oncoming threat, but that was all he could do before Dim had wrapped both of his hands around Jerry's neck and thrown him, guitar and all, across the room. Limp, but still strapped and wired, Jerry landed in a heap on the floor, sliding almost neatly into the bass drum. Dim roared his frustration all around the room, while Click ran as quickly as he could towards Jerry's prone body.
"You're a complete prick, Jerry!" Dim was shouting at the top of his voice. "You went behind my back again for your own selfish ego. Did you think I wouldn't find out? It's in a bloody magazine; everybody's going to see it. You were a bastard to me again. How do you even come up with all this bollocks and lies? Can't even think up something honest to say about me? You had to take the piss out of me and the rest of my band. Well guess what; I'm in charge here, prick. If I want you out then you'll be out, because you work for me. Click will go to Cooper right now and then you'll be fired and charged for all the debt you've dropped on our shoulders."
Click said a silent thank you to any gods that happened to exist when he say that Jerry was not bleeding. This was lucky, considering the force of the throw and the complete crumple in the landing. Jerry was shaking his head, but he was conscious, and he looked pissed himself. He pushed himself up on his hands, and scrambled up to his feet. In a rare attempt at bravery, Click tried to step in-between the two of them, but this only gave Jerry the chance to take off his guitar and drop it, unceremoniously, to the floor. The resulting noise was loud, and provided enough distraction for Click to be pushed aside. Before he could really see what was happening, Jerry had charged into Dim and tackled him to the floor.
To say that Click lost control quickly would be a ridiculous statement. Control was not something that Click had ever had. While Jerry threw his fists back and forth into Dim's exposed flesh, Click looked over to Rock and hard Plaice for help, since they at least had more muscle than he did. The general response was for them to start playing a fresh rhythm, with wide smiles, to the beat of Jerry's attack. At any other time, or if it was happening to any other person, Click would have found that hilarious. It was not. He knew that now.
It was no surprise that Dim gained the upper hand again without much of a challenge. He pushed Jerry away with enough force to send him sprawling, but then spent enough time trying to get up that Jerry was back in position before he managed it. More vicious blows, trying so hard to connect with Dim's nose or jaw, were the next thing to come.
There was a little switch in the bass line and the speed of the drum beat. "Guys, this isn't necessary," Click tried to shout over the grunts and calls of the struggling pair.
Before a single word had been said in response, Dim had stretched out a hand to take Jerry's throat in a grip so tight that Jerry suddenly couldn't breathe. There was silence for a moment while Dim found his way back to his feet, dragging at Jerry's neck as he did so.
"You have always been jealous of me," Dim spat in his opponent's face. He spoke through bared teeth, snarling like an enraged animal. "You're a stupid old drunk, with no friends and no life outside of running after me while I carry your fat arse. Well, it stops now, even if I have to stop it myself."
Now, the music stopped, and the two band members that were usually stationary stepped forwards quickly. They were too late though, as Jerry chose that moment to plunge his fingernails into his singer's eyes. Dim cried out in pain for several seconds before it convinced him to loosen his grip. This cost him, and his eyeballs were undoubtedly already burning by the time the next punch came and connected directly with the bone of his nose. A sickening crunch echoed around the still room, before Dim's gruesome yelp broke the silence that followed. Less than a second had taken an eternity to pass.
Dim went down, landing on his arse, with blood gushing from his nose. He was obviously in pain, and clutching his face desperately to try to stop the bleeding, yet his eyes still showed cruel intentions towards his guitarist. Jerry stood over him. The blood of the victim was on his knuckles.
"Now, you listen up, you stupid, selfish, self-centred bastard!" Jerry yelled downwards. "You are the worst person and greatest idiot I've ever had to work with. That's the truth, and that's what the interview said. Yeah, I used some colourful phrases, but that's because you're a complete jackass and I'd be happy to see you die. Cooper sent me to look after you because you're useless at it, and that means music too. You're in debt, despite the stupid salary Fire Brand give you because, somehow, you're damned close to having more fans than God. Now, you just have to-"
His words were cut short by Dim's counter attack. It was unbelievably fast, and vicious. In one, smooth and swift motion, he swung his entire body behind his fist and struck Jerry, beneath the chin, with enough force to actually throw his body several feet away before it hit the ground. Click, refusing to see any more, finally managed to plant himself directly in-between the two fallen musicians.
Rock and hard Plaice had wandered over to the leftover beers and began to finish them off. Click chose to ignore them.
"So we've had a lot of macho bullshit, and it doesn't look like either of you are going to be having fun moving any time soon. I'm guessing this is what you wanted," he said to them both. Jerry, thankfully, was lifting his head, but staying down for now. Dim was groaning to himself. "Right now, what you both need is the hospital. After that, we can talk about why all this started and hopefully move on rather than letting it start all over again. I could report both of you to Cooper, and that would be it. There would be no more band, your contract would be revoked for gross misconduct, and he would make sure that nowhere, not even the most useless little pub in the world, would ever let you set foot on their stages. I know you guys have never been friends, but maybe you could be enemies a bit less often too?"
Dim spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor in front of him. He eyes were fixed on Click intensely, as though he had already chosen his next victim. Utterly terrified, Click chose the smarter of his options. "Rock, you can drive, go and get his nose fixed."
"Hey, man, this is nothing to do with me," complained Rock. He paused to get as much of his beer down him as he could. "Besides, I've been drinking way too much. You have to-"
"You want a job, right? Or would you rather go home with your tail between your legs and sulk when nobody will ever hire you again?"
Both members of the rhythm section froze, momentarily scanning Click with a look of utter patronising disbelief. Slowly though, with their manager refusing to move, it dawned on them that another period of unemployment would not suit them. They moved slowly, dawdling intentionally, but they moved. Dim got to his feet himself, still looking furious, but he allowed himself to be led away. He left a small trail of blood in his wake. Likely his nose would be fine.
"Didn't expect me to just shut up and take that, did you?" Jerry asked, through a few panted breaths. He looked to be fighting through a lot of pain, but he was sitting up regardless.
"What did you say in that interview? I've seen him mad before, but he's a bit more intense than usual today."
Jerry coughed, then rubbed his jaw tenderly. A bruise was already beginning to form. "I was honest," he replied. "You know as well as I do that he's a detestable waste of time. I'd rather have no chance at making music at all than work with him any more. It was my first time ever having an interview; I kind of ran out of things to say. I'm not going to lie when someone asks me a question just to keep the peace."
"You going to get in the car quietly with me, or are you going to put up a fight about this?"
"I don't need to go to any hospital, Josh," Jerry told him. He was bringing himself closer to a standing position, but his bruises were becoming more and more defined. His throat was purpling horribly. "You might as well just go home, Click. It's not like we're going to be making any more performances here."
"You think I'm just going to leave you here?"
"Yeah, it's been a long day. Go home."