---
Late October 1982 – San Francisco
James opened the apartment door in his socks, chewing the last of a granola bar. On the other side stood a man with big, wild hair, a jean vest covered in patches, and a grin that suggested he knew exactly what he was doing there.
"You James Hetfield?"
James blinked. "Yeah. Who's asking?"
The man extended a hand. "Jon Zazula. Call me Jonny Z. I run Megaforce Records. You and I need to talk."
---
Later That Day – Denny's Near Market Street
The band sat across from Jonny in a booth stacked with coffee mugs and greasy plates. Lars stirred his eggs but barely ate. Cliff listened in silence. Dave didn't even try to hide his suspicion.
James kept his eyes locked on Zazula, trying to see through the flash of his words.
"I heard your demo from a kid in Jersey," Jonny said, leaning forward. "Took one listen to Hit the Lights and said to myself, 'These kids are the future of metal.' I've got distribution through Important Records. Not a major label, but enough to get you across the country."
Dave narrowed his eyes. "So what's in it for you?"
Jonny smiled. "Simple. I want to release your first album. Megaforce'll handle the pressing, the distribution, and get you on the East Coast. You bring the thunder. We handle the rest."
Cliff finally spoke. "How many bands have you signed?"
"None yet," Jonny admitted. "You'd be the first."
Dave scoffed, but Lars leaned forward. "That means we're the flagship."
James looked at Cliff. The bassist just gave a small nod.
---
Back at the Rehearsal Space
The four stood around a beat-up folding table, the Megaforce flyer in front of them like a sacred scroll. It wasn't a formal contract — just a promise: We believe in Metallica. Let's make an album together.
James exhaled. "So this is it. We either leap or we keep slugging in bars."
Dave crossed his arms. "I'm not letting some East Coast guy control our sound."
"No one said control," Cliff replied calmly. "He believes in the tape. The tape we made."
Lars smacked the table. "This is what we've been waiting for! We've got buzz, we've got songs, and now we've got a shot at pressing vinyl. Actual vinyl."
James ran a hand through his hair. "Then we do it. But we stay sharp. No one owns us."
Cliff added, "And we make the album we want."
They all nodded.
No one said it out loud, but the shift had begun.
Metallica was no longer just a band.
They were becoming a force.
---
Later That Night – James' Journal
We're gonna do it. An album. Real one.
Not just garage tapes or half-baked bar sets.
We make this count. Cliff's in. Lars is in. Dave… is Dave.
But I'll hold this thing together if I have to break my back doing it.
This is what I was born for — or maybe reborn for.
Doesn't matter. Metallica's moving. Let the world try and stop it.
---