The Fall and the Fuzz: A Sisters of St. Rock Update

 

Tragedy struck the Sisters of St. Rock not with a bang, but with a suspicious silence and the faint scent of hairspray.

One morning, Gloria and Victoria—once the thunderous backbone of the band—vanished without a trace. No dramatic farewell tour. No poetic final note. Just… gone. Disappeared. Rumors spread like spilled eyeliner in a mosh pit.

Some said they’d been swallowed by a black hole that opened up during a guitar solo. Others swore they’d seen the two boarding a seaplane to an uncharted island where rockstars go to forget fame and find inner peace. Kunto, ever the visionary, insisted they had been abducted by the same aliens who once erased his memory in Morocco. The truth? No one really knows.

What is known is that without them, the Sisters began to slow. Momentum wavered. Tours were postponed. Some recordings mysteriously went unbooked. A new single was ready but mysteriously stayed on someone’s desk. The Sisters slipped from the top of the charts to the shadows of the scene. The world moved on, but the spirit of rock? Oh, it lingered.

Eventually, Olimpia—doctor, vocalist, and occasional goddess of backstage chaos—took a sidestep. She accepted a temporary offer to perform with The Gentle Gnome, a group known for their powerful harmonies, eccentric style, and surprisingly organized schedules. It wasn’t betrayal. It was survival. A tactical alliance. Probably temporary.

Back in the original Sisters’ camp, Letizia remained: fierce, unhinged, and louder than ever. Hazel stayed, mostly. Green Peace floated through rehearsals like the calm before the storm. The Sisters of St. Rock weren’t dead. Just… sleeping. Gathering their strength. Tuning their guitars in the shadows.

And besides, Olimpia’s empire was still very much alive: a thriving chain of rock clubs, a recording studio, and a CD factory that never stopped humming. The infrastructure of musical rebellion remained intact. All it would take is the right moment. The spark. The scream.

Because legends don’t disappear. They wait.

Sometimes with a microphone in one hand… and a revolver in the other.