One of the guys in the group, a blond dude sporting a hip-hop getup but known for his rock vocals during tryouts, was especially antsy.

Having been overlooked by the big-shot agencies, he was under the wing of a lesser-known outfit.

His spirits had taken a hit since the previous night.

Restless, he began to pace, his patience thinning by the second.

“Where on earth is she? Reckon she’s left us high and dry? If she’s given up on us, she could at least have the decency to tell us!” he exclaimed.

Tom Rivas couldn’t contain his exasperation any longer, slumping to the floor in defeat. He grumbled, “Joining her team was a mistake.

Even if I’d been kicked out during the auditions, it would have been better than this public embarrassment. The net’s buzzing with ridicule about us. Why are we even still here?”

Brucie Armstrong, sitting nearby, flexed his muscular arms beneath his sleeveless shirt.

as Tom, but his low spirits were palpable. He remarked, “Unless a

the others at the auditions? How

Woodrow tried to interject some

hope now. Better to try and fail than not try at all. Giving up now means we’ve truly

looking at

face a camera, and now you’re giving

was evident as he continued to mock, “Thinking of winning, are you? On what grounds? Your shrieking voices? Or

got a clue about comedy? Keep your ill-informed comments to yourself,” Franklin defended, quickly escalating the exchange into a full-blown argument between

of the heated debate, Brucie’s voice cut

point? We shouldn’t even be here. The blame is on whoever picked

was palpable as Tom continued

“She dragged us here at the crack of dawn and then vanished. I could’ve spent my time better sleeping. And last night, I looked up her company, this ‘Landon Media,‘ I’ve never heard of it! Probably just some dubious front using us

distinguishable by his weary eyes and single eyelids,

griping when you secured your positions yesterday. What

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