A/N: Hi, hi, hi! So, last time, my prolouge was really short... so is this. XD I promise longer chappies as soon as I can get more time to work on them! For now, enjoy Chapter Ono... err, I mean... One! XD
P.S. Mucho Thankso (Bad Spanish... deal with it. XD) to Victoria Harrison, EllieJellythemusicgirl (aka Other Empress Ellie), and michelleandjulia for their reviews and encouragement! Also to my bestie Rache for poking me with a virtual stick and saying "FINISH THE STORY!". And I promise I'm going to put you in the story Rache... just not till next chapter. :D Thanks a bunch guys!
John ran. Not that it was out of the ordinary. In fact, he spent a good deal of his time running from demented fans. So John was used to running. But this was different. This time, there was no Paul, George, and Ringo panting alongside him. No police precinct there to guard them. No Mal jogging behind them to ward off anyone who managed to make it past the Bobbies. No Neil waiting for them just around the block with their car. This time, he had no defense. So all he could do was run.
How he had gotten himself into this situation he was barely even sure; it had just happened so fast. He and Paul had slipped out the back door of the studio for a quick smoke and some fresh air to clear their minds before they returned to brainstorming song-ideas for their newest album "A Hard Day's Night". It turned out to be a HUGE mistake. The second they set foot outside the studio, they were ambushed by hordes of hysterical, screaming girls. In a fit of panic, they split, running as fast as their feet could carry them. Somewhere along the way and amid the blood-curdling screams, John lost sight of Paul. He kept running, muttering a near-silent apology to his mate as he supposedly left him behind. He could only hope Paul had made it somewhere safe, or was back at the studio waiting for him to escape the army of frantic girls.
Feeling himself tiring, John began to wonder if he could, in fact, escape this catastrophe. Just as his muscles started screaming at him to either lower the pace or EXPLODE, he saw his way out. "SWEET RELIEF!" he cried out, his voice drowning in the screaming behind him. He had run so far, he didn't recognize his surroundings, but he did recognize a safe-haven when it was smack in front of his eyes. His escape route came in the form of a nearby rickety, old diner. He pumped his legs as fast as he could, gaining several more meters on the girls, and slammed open the diner door with his side. Dashing inside and gasping for air, he became suddenly aware that the shocked stares of customers and staff alike were directed solely at him. He grinned cornily and exclaimed "Wicked heat out today, eh?"