"What?" Cried Dave. The room was suddenly filled with blabbering chatter.

"That's absurd!" Newsreader John exclaimed.

"But our ship!"

"Our records!"

"Our fans!"

"Everything is gone!"

The Count smiled. "Our money isn't."

Then, everyone seemed to remember. They had never really given a thought about the profits they made with Radio Rock, after all they didn't need much but food, which was cheap because Felicity was good friends with the owner of the food store that supplied them. Come to think of it, they didn't really spend much money at all. Well, money can't buy me love, as the lads say.

"With advertising over the years, at the most, we have made a rather large amount of"- The Count rubbed his fingers to his thumbs in the air - "Money."

"Probably around, I'd say... 2000.00 quid," Quentin said, blandly.

The was a gasp in the room. It stayed quiet until Gavin broke the silence. In his deep and throaty voice he said, "My god. We're rich bastards."

There was sudden cheers of delight in the room, until The Count shushed them, and continued, "With those generous profits we made, I was able to do a little pre-planning... To tell you the truth, actually, I bought a boat."

"How?"

"Remember that fellow, the old fisherman, Bill who brought people out on to the boat for us? Well, I was talking to him a while ago and he told me that his brother in law had a nice Ship for sale, cheap price and in good condition. I just couldn't refuse the offer, so I bought it. It's great. It spacy, comfortable and has more room then the last boat! And it's equipped to sail the seas, so we won't have any trouble there," The Count said, proudly.

The room was silence. Carl thought everyone there was flabbergasted. He knew he was. We're setting sail again? He asked himself. Then the realization hit him.

"This is great," Carl said aloud, "I mean, there's going to be a Radio Rock again!"

Once again, this statement caused jeers of happiness, laughter and bubbly excitement.

"I'll get to D.J. again!" Cried Simon.

"I'll have a house again!" Yelled Bob.

"The girls will be back!" Dave said, grinning.

"Let's not get too excited now," Gavin directed to the group, then turned to The Count. "What exactly are the tactics to this plan?"

"I was just getting to that," The Count said, shooting a look of friendly competition towards Gavin, which Gavin slyly returned.

"The next thing we have to focus on is records. All of ours were lost when the ship sink, and we need to replace them. I need all of you to help with this one. Try friends, family, anyone, try to get records. I'm going to look into the record companies, and see if they can get us a deal for certain artists. I'm talking the bigwigs, EMI, Parlophone, all of that stuff. We can also have a fundraiser or something, to see if fans want to give us money or records."

"Also, we need a broadcasting system," Quentin added.

"Ooh! I've got one of those! It's in my Mum's basement!" Angus cried.

"Excellent," Quentin said, clapping his hands together.

It seemed all set in place to Carl, except for just one thing. Hesitantly, he raised his hand.

"Yes, Carl," The Count acknowledged.

"Er-" Carl started, "How exactly are we going to get people's attention in America?"

"Good question," The Count said, grinning. "I like to think of it this way, like we're The Beatles in 1963. We've achieved mainstream success in our territory, now we're trying to get popular in the holy land. How did they do that?"

Gavin smirked. "They released I Want To Hold Your Hand and all the American birds loved it."

"Yes... But how did they get to that point?"

"The Ed Sullivan Show," Felicity said bashfully.

"Exactly."

"Your mad!" Bob cried. "The Ed Sullivan Show is for goodie-goodies! He'd never let us advertise on his show! We can't!"

"I wasn't thinking that we'd advertise on his show. I was more thinking that we could advertise his show! I think we would get more views on that!"

"Ahem," Came a voice from behind the bar. Everyone turned to face the old and withered bartender.

"It's closin' time," He said gruffly, gesturing to the clock on the wall.

"It says you close around ten," Quentin argued curtly.

"We close early tonight. Me wife wants me home for dinner, lads," The bartender said irritatedly.

"Sorry. We'll be out in a few minutes," Quentin said, and the bartender nodded.

"I guess that's it for now, but we can meet again soon. Let's say, er, tomorrow at the docks, I'll show you the ship," The Count announced. "And congratulations to all of us."

With that, the crow of D.J.'s and friends began to disperse, hugging each other goodbyes.

They were all happy with the news they had just received, excitement of meeting again tomorrow shot through them like the blood in their viens.


I'm so sorry for the wait! The next chapter might be a while, I'm going on a class trip for the week! Keep reading!

- Love Cannedtuna. :D