End Scene. by Jennifer Rain
Warnings: angst, mystery, crime, sexual references, swears, confusion.
Rating- Teen
Disclaimer- Plot, mine. Characters you don't recognize, mine (for example, Brenon and Meylor). Characters you do recognize, in this chapter, High School Musical. Moments and scenes you don't recognize, mine. Memories and scenes you do recognize, HSM, and possibly, in the future, CSI or some other non-Disney related franchise. This is purely for my own amusement and that of my friends and any reader who happens to stumble upon it. By no means am I claiming to own or be associated with the incredible hit that is High School Musical, nor Disney, the actors, or anything remotely related, however in my dreams I'm associated with a certain Mr. Grabeel. I'm not claiming the rights to any written script or anything similar. Not mine. I'm just using the characters and incorporating them into this odd story for my twisted amusement. No copy write infringement intended. please don't sue. Enjoy.
Authors Note: Hey there, readers. You've stumbled upon a very… er… unconventional High School Musical fan fiction. So welcome, I hope you enjoy. Just so you know, there are different parts to it. For example, the Prologue, titled "Cries" is Chapter one, part one, but the chapters aren't exactly chapters, it's more... sections of the overall story. I have the first "chapter" done and written, and I'll post a few parts today, and then, if you like it, I'll continue to post. If you all don't, I'll take it down and replace the names, because the characters can easily be translated to a normal non-HSM related story. In fact, I had this idea for an original story to begin with, but thought about the characters possibly being those of HSM, and worked those elements in. It's mostly about the Evans twins, but the other characters will make appearances. At the moment, there aren't any pairings, but later on there'll be some sparks between characters, and it'll switch back and forth in memories of a relationship or two. A lot of sexual references, so, if you're not a teen, I suggest you turn back and read a nice K+. There's violence and crime, swears and tons of angst and mysteries. Part three shows some pretty out of character Ryan, but it's kind of how I pictured him in this moment. My writing style went whacky in this, I believe it's the fact that I was writing it after one o'clock this morning after an hour of trying and failing to fall asleep, so it'll switch from points of view, and even from third to first narrative. It should be interesting, and I was thinking of somehow weaving CSI characters into it in dedication to my very obsessed lovely friends Gen and Sam, however, I'll see where the story takes me and work from there. I have no real plot in mind, so beware, there'll be a lot of surprises that even I don't know what's in store. I write whatever my pen writes. Ah, looks like the A/N is longer than the prologue, so I'll let y'all get reading. Enjoy, and comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this very unusual story.
Chapter one, part one. (1.1)Prologue: Cries
"Blood." A disheveled girl stumbled into the police station, her blonde hair unruly and covering her face, her hands shaking like leaves in an uncontrollable, untamable wind. She groped around for something to hold on to, to steady herself, but found nothing so instead tried to stand up, reaching her hands out in an attempt to balance.
"Blood," her voice cried again, and it was than that Detectives John Brenon and Zack Meylor noticed her clothing- her expensive outfit splattered in a red, shining, liquid substance. The girl was covered in it, had it smeared on her face, her clothes, in her hair, all over her shaking hands. Blood. A horrifying splash of color in contrast to the bright white cleanliness of the station.
"Blood," she mumbled, finally looking up and noticing the momentarily shocked young men, finding her voice and losing it once again. Her stunned, horrified expression fading to one of utter apathy; a picturesque blank face as her eyes closed, giving into the fighting, winning force that was darkness, succumbing to the fleeting moments of peaceful, blissful ignorance. Forgetting, crumpling rather sickeningly into a heap on the floor, blood staining the pure, white polished tiles.
Though her cries had stopped, they rang loud in clear within the ears of the two twenty-something-year-olds who were anything but used to young girls stumbling in and falling, knocked out at their feet, covered in blood. Perhaps this wasn't the dream job after all?
