Chapter Two

With Friends Like These

The road that circled Green Lion Square was packed with cheerful laughter and conversation, full of expectation and almost child-like excitement. Fans from all over England – with more than a few from around the world – had gathered in front of the Epsilon Concert Hall in preparation for the glass doors to open. Groups were seeking one another, double and triple checking that they had their tickets; They were far too valuable to lose.

To think that Bridge, the enigma who single-handedly led Razor's Edge to the very top of the charts, had returned after seven years was almost too good to believe. There was no doubt that he was one of the biggest draws that the Epsilon Hall had seen in nearly all its time in London and that it would be packed tight with fans.

The Hall had seen its fair share of superstars already. It had seen the rise of the Classical Cellist, Emma Fischer. It had played host to Charlie Walker while he was on tour from America. The heartfelt messages from Elijah Freemon had rang out over that stage. It was truly a birthplace of the musical immortals.

"Why does there always have to be queue's?" One voice among many cried out, impatiently pacing back and forth.

Corey Walker glanced from out from under his beanie and his fringe of dark hair. "It couldn't be that, y'know, there are thousands of people here?" Corey grinned as he tried to rub the chill out of his arms. "It's just a guess…" Corey was one in a group of four who couldn't believe their luck when the tickets of Bridge's return broke the news. He could still hardly believe they had managed to get tickets with how popular Bridge was. Even though he was barely a teenager at Bridge's musical height, Corey could remember Razor's Edge's songs playing over the radio at home or at school. Even in those six years Bridge had left mysteriously, his voice could be heard everywhere he went.

"Psh…" James Mayfair crossed his arms. "That's no excuse." James was the tallest of the group and the cockiest. He was never without a crude joke or a jibe. He may have been loud, foolish, and somewhat ignorant but he was honest to a fault. He was also the oldest of the group – even at just a month – but it was something he absolutely loved to brag about at every chance he got.

"To be fair, we are early," Gordon Butler shrugged. Gordon was perhaps the sole reason they were able to get the tickets when they did. Both parents were top-of-the-line chefs and he himself worked in their kitchens. He had been the one to buy the four tickets and ask them if they wanted to come later. That's how important – and how quick - the tickets had sold.

"I do hope they'll open the doors soon, though," Corey looked up to the sky. "It's grey and cold. I wouldn't be surprised to see snow."

"Hah!" James rolled his eyes. "Snow? Don't be optimistic. If anything, we'll get rain. If not, we'll get more rain."

"Hang on," Standing taller than most of the heads on the packed street, Corey could peer at the glass front of the Epsilon Concert Hall. "I think – They're starting to let people in."

"Finally!" James grinned and reached into his pocket to pull out his ticket, looking at it with glee. "This is gonna be a night to remember!"

"Put that away before it blows away," Gordon said. "If you lose that, you're going to be the one paying me back."

"Don't be silly," James clapped Gordon on the arm with a grin. "I can't afford to pay you back."

"Onwards, fellas. Onwards." Corey forcibly shoved James forward as the crowd started to move. Gordon followed suit but the last of their group remained standing looking at his phone, his fingers a blur. Corey sighed and shook his head. "Hey, earth to Carl… Carl…?"

"Hey, numb-nuts!" James punched Carl in the arm – hard. Carl's eyes shot up with his phone and stared daggers.

"What is it? Are you finally done complaining about the weather?" Carl, while the most anti-social of the group, was also the smartest. He may have been glued to his phone for the majority of the trip but Carl has been the one to get everyone to leave earlier. If they hadn't, they would have been far, far at the back of the mass of people.

Corey often liked to say that their little group of friends worked like a game of rock-paper-scissors and that was what made them gel so well together. Gordon's seriousness worked to quell James aggressiveness. James' own boisterousness helped Carl talk and grow as a person. Carl's knowledge with technology would always help Corey out – who was working on his computing a-levels – and Corey's happy-go-lucky attitude would let Gordon break out a smile every now and again.

The four of them had completely different attitudes and were raised in different ways. Corey was the most normal of the four – his parents had done their best to raise him. As long as Corey could remember, they had been all smiles. He had heard them argue behind closed doors, of course but they had never let Corey be in the room when they did argue, something he was immensely grateful for. There was nothing as sad as hearing parents argue.

Carl's mother had passed away when he was young. His father – a salesman – had struggled trying to make ends meet and cope with Carl's intellect. Gordon had been under the immense pressure of having two parents who were some of the best at what they did. That pressure forced him to grow in their field with no option outside of cooking.

James was the one who often was vocal that if it wasn't for Carl, Gordon and Corey that he would be in prison or dead. His was unfortunately quite a common story in the poorer parts of London. A drunk father and a mother than would rather slap him to keep him quiet than teach him the vital lessons a boy would need. Instead, he grew up by rebelling against any and all authorities.

Nevertheless, Corey couldn't ask for better friends. They had his back and he had there's, always.

The black motorcycle traveled down the A301 north of the center of Waterloo. The 2014 Triumph Speed Triple ABS showed that it had been well-used ever since it had been bought. There were more than a few small scratches from various minor crashes in its history. The front wheel-cover had been chipped from when a car had reversed into it. The tires themselves were worn and probably ought to be replaced soon. Despite the small amounts of damage, it was clear that the bike was loved.

The Triumph was hosting two riders. The driver was male, his baggy clothes shaking in the wind. He wore a black helmet that was as well-used as the Triumph itself. Sitting behind the driver with her arms around his waist was a female in a somewhat ugly pale green helmet that had been bought cheap. The helmet did have a sentimental value, though.

They passed across the Waterloo Bridge crossing the Thames and continued on into the Strand Underpass. The engine echoed through the small cramped tunnel before they emerged onto the Kingsway, lined with trees that were guarding the street. After a minute they turned left onto High Holborn, then right onto Southampton and right once more onto Vernon. Finally one more right and left took them into the packed Green Lion Square.

Both driver and passenger cocked their heads at the crowd as they passed through slowly, taking care to avoid any stray civilians. They passed right by the square and continued down the road until they could find a spot to stop. Thankfully, riding a motorcycle meant they could squeeze into the smallest gaps and the driver quickly pulled into one not too far from Green Lion Square.

Trenton Ferris pulled off his helmet and shivered as the wind brushed past his hair. He frowned, licking the inside of his lower lip where a single stud had been pierced. "…I guess you were right." At eighteen years old, Trenton had forged a role for himself that suited him just fine. Black eye-liner circled his dark grey eyes making him seem particularly mysterious. Along with his hoody that had been zipped up tight to protect against the wind, he wore a pair of loose-legged pants that were worn intentionally at the knees. Tightening the trousers around his waist was a black and silver studded belt with a silver chain that shuddered back and forth in tune with the wind.

"Of course I was right," Meagan Thompson playfully punched her friend on the arm. Her blonde hair fluttered in the wind, revealing died blue strands underneath which made her look almost mystical. Meagan wore a pair of red jeans with a pair of solid black boots that she would never been seen without. Another pair of black bands curved about her wrists, matching the choker that curled around her thin neck. Her black t-shirt hugged her frame snugly, complete with a skull imprinted in the middle. "What was it I said, Trent? Hm?"

When Trenton didn't respond Meagan just smirked at him. "If we leave early, we'll miss the long queues. We'll be fine, you said." Meagan motioned down the street where the queue ended, though was moving slightly forward. "Now it's going to be ages until we get in."

"I'll accept defeat on this one, Meg." Trenton sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We better get in before more people show up."

"I wouldn't be surprised if we were the last people from the length of that queue."

With that, the two of them moved forward, leaving their helmets in a custom carrier on the back of the Triumph.

Meagan and Trenton had been best friends for as long as either of them could remember. They had been thick as thieves since preschool, through primary, junior, and high school. They would have continued through A-levels together but both of them found they had learned all they could learn. Meagan had managed to get a job as a waitress – much to Trenton's amusement. Trenton himself worked as a customer assistant at a local store in order to get income until he figured out exactly what it was he wanted to do with his life.

Both of them had also decided to be roommates, since living together was a whole lot easier than trying to find a place individually. Much to their chagrin, both sets of parents believed the two of them had finally got together romantically, even though both weren't interested in the other in that way at all. Meagan had numerous flings in school which never amounted to anything after the male party realized that she required a lot of patience to deal with. Trenton himself had never had a girlfriend but wasn't particularly interested in getting one at this point in his life – a rarity for someone his age. He just wanted to concentrate in finding his place in life.

"This had better be worth it," Trenton said as the two of them reached the end of the line. "I had to cash in a couple of favors to get today off."

"Of course it's gonna be worth it," Meagan practically rolled her eyes. "Hello, I mean, Bridge? Come on, Trent, try not to sound as ignorant as you do, alright?"

"Yes, yes, I've heard all about Bridge." Trenton shook his head. "As you are always so eager to remind me. I'm just not sure he's my thing."

"Not your thing? You're a rocker, aren't you? Bridge is the epitome of rock with his own enigmatic twist on music. If you watched those DVD's from when he was in Razor's Edge you'd understand the power of his music. Why was it you didn't watch those? Eh?"

"Please, don't start this again," Trenton shook his head with a small smile.

"Oh yeah. Didn't have time." Meagan crossed her arms. "You never did watch them, even though I know they are still under the TV. This time you are gonna see the Phenom that is Bridge and you will enjoy his music."

"I might enjoy his music," Trenton corrected.

"You will!" Meagan insisted. "Besides…" Meagan suddenly frowned, a shiver running up her spine. She clutched her elbows as her eyes narrowed. Trenton glanced at her, concerned.

"You alright?"

"Hrm…" Meagan looked around, unnerved. "I'm not sure…"

"A bad feeling?" Trenton queried.

"Maybe…"

"You want to go?" Trenton asked seriously. If there was one thing you had to understand about Meagan Thompson, it was that you take her feelings seriously. So many people had dismissed Meagan's 'feelings' as just make-believe but one hundred percent of the time Meagan's feelings had led into something bad – or indeed, good, depending on the feeling – happening. Trenton observed Meagan's face go pale and knew that whatever feeling it was that she had it was particularly bad.

"Nah," Meagan forced a deep breath. "Today was far too expensive to just give it up," Meagan forced a pained smile. "We'll take it as it goes. I'll see how I feel as we go on, alright?" She shook her arms out and her smile turned more natural. "Now, let me educate you on Bridge and just what it is you'll love about him."

Trenton shook his head again. "Okay, here it comes…"

A/N:- Corey Walker is credited to Grojbandian180 while Meagan Thompson & Trenton Ferris are credited to Lily the Vocaloid.