August 31st, Sunday
11:00
Charlie Walker put his ear against the door, his mouth turning in an ever increasing frown. He had come to talk to his daughter who had her own dressing room due to being his child, but now he had heard the one thing he didn't want to hear. A man's voice.
"C'mon Bonny, your dad isn't gonna find out about this… or us, I mean, he doesn't pay attention to you, does he?"
"No… no, he doesn't… you're right, this is gonna be fine. I mean, what we have is perfect, I don't need that guy's permission for this. So what do I have to do?"
"You snort it up with that straw. You'll get a kick like you've never had before."
At this, Charlie's 6' 5" broad farming figure stiffened. He drew away from the door and took a deep breath. Then he slammed his shoulder hard into the wood. It buckled with little resistance. Charlie stood in the doorway, staring at his daughter and that boy, Zack. Both stared at Charlie in shock, white powder lying in straight lines on the table in front of them. Charlie had to try his hardest not to shout.
"What… in the goddamn hell… are you doin', Bonny?" He growled, fists clenched tightly at his sides.
"D-Dad!" Bonny suddenly jumped to her feet, quickly swiping her hand across the table, sending the powder everywhere. But it was far too late. "I-"
"Is that cocaine?" Charlie asked quietly.
"I-yes, I mean, no- I-"
"You." Charlie pointed at Zack, who was stock-still. "Out."
Zack glanced at Bonny before standing defiantly before the much bigger man. "No. You can't tell her what to do. She's eighteen. She's old enough to think for herself. She's-"
"I. Said. Out." Charlie glowered down at Zack with enough force to make him scamper out of the room with his tail between his legs. Charlie looked back to Bonny, who was swiping her purple-dyed hair out of her eyes. She was nothing like her father. While Charlie embraced his Texas roots, complete with a thick moustache and cowboy hat, Bonny had been taken over by this new age music. She wore fishnet underneath skimpy skirts and tight tops. With purple eyeliner and lipstick it didn't take any stretch of imagination to think her a prostitute. "Bonny-"
"He's right you know! You don't control what I do!"
"I am your father, and cocaine is illegal. Do you want to be sent to prison?"
"I'd just get bailed out by you if I do, but I won't, 'cause I won't get caught!"
"I just caught you!"
"You were eavesdropping, weren't you? Fuck you, dad, Zack's a great guy and this stuff gives me excitement in my otherwise boring paparazzi invaded life!"
"That stuff will kill you! What else are you doin' when I'm not lookin'? I know you smoke, but what else do you do, huh? Take meth or speed or-"
"I don't have to tell you what I do when I'm on my own!" Bonny shouted. "You just can't accept that I'm not the daughter you wanted!"
"That is not true. I let you do what you want, but when you do things that are illegal, then that is where I draw the line." Charlie couldn't help but raise his voice. "And now you're datin' him? What the hell are you thinkin'!?"
"I'm thinking, dad, that Zack is exciting and awesome to be around. He doesn't just think of me as Charlie Walker's daughter, you know, he thinks of me as Bonny, someone to spend his future with! Oh, and by the way, I'm gonna be performing with him on stage tonight!" Bonny tried to exit the room but Charlie put his arm out, slamming his hand on the doorframe.
"You… what? You don't play any instruments."
"Shows what you know! I can play guitar, but I'm gonna be singing anyway!"
"Singin'?" Charlie stared at Bonny. "You can't sing."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence! I wasn't asking you anyway, and Zack thinks I can sing."
"Well, what are you singin' then?"
"Death metal!"
Charlie shook his head. "That is not music, Bonny, that's a bunch of screamin' nonsense!"
"I don't gotta play country, dad, that's your thing, not mine. You may not like death metal, but it's getting big. You have no right to say it's not music."
"You will not be performin' that deafenin' sound and you certainly will not be performin' with that boy."
"Fuck you, dad! You can't stop me! You're not the boss of me! You're just a fuckin' dictator!"
A flash of red burst through Charlie's mind. He raised his hand and was about to bring it down before he stopped himself. Breathing hard, he cleared his mind.
"Oh, yeah, dad, fuckin' hit me! Go on!" Bonny challenged, tears in her eyes. "I'm not mother! You hit me, I will fuckin' fight back and I will go to the police! Or maybe you'll just beat me to death, why not, you didn't have a problem doing that to mot-"
"That is not me!" Charlie roared, unable to hold in his voice any longer. He took a deep breath and looked into Bonny's frightened eyes. "Not any more…" He whispered before speaking up. "Fine… fine… do what you want… just… don't do anythin' illegal, please? Just… just be careful…"
Bonny didn't reply, just ran out of the room. After a few minutes, Charlie swung around and smashed his hand into the open door, sending his fist right through the plywood.
"Charlie?"
Charlie looked through the doorway to spot Elijah Freemon. Elijah was a good friend of his, someone he confided in. While he didn't like most forms of rap, Elijah had a message and wanted to support children and people in need everywhere. Charlie pulled his hand from the door and sat down on a chair by the wall, his head in his hands.
"You okay, man? I heard shouting?"
"Just… just arguin' with Bonny… were we loud?"
"Any louder and I'd expect you'd drown out the music on stage." Elijah said lightly, coming over to Charlie's side. "You need anything or do you want me to leave you be?"
"No… no, stay…" Charlie looked up at Elijah, his eyes wet. "I almost hit her… I had this… urge… I wanted to hit her… I didn't but…"
Elijah put a hand on Charlie's shoulder. "Hey… you didn't hit her though, that's the important thing, right?"
"I don't know how I can hold back, though… she keeps doin' these… stupid things… it's like she doesn't care about her life. I just want her to listen…"
"Then make her listen to your words, not your fists." Elijah said firmly.
Elijah had met Charlie at a meeting for parents who hit their spouses or children. Much like meetings for smoking or drinking, it was a place to seek help and get sponsors. A lot of people wanted to control their anger, and Charlie was one of them. Elijah was there as a special guest, being the man who had been beaten as a child. He had seen a fellow musician in Charlie and decided to sponsor him there and then, despite the fact he wasn't an official sponsor. Elijah saw his father in Charlie, and wanted to make sure he didn't end up like him.
Charlie nodded before standing up. "I need to get backstage… I'm gonna be performin' soon."
"Are you okay to do that?"
"I can't just disappoint my fans, Elijah, you know that. I'll be fine… I just… maybe I'll go to counselling with her. I want to fix this relationship."
"That'll be good. Keep me up to date, okay? But remember, if you ever feel that anger and you just have to hit something, hit something like that door, okay? Don't let yourself do anything else you'd regret."
"I know. Thanks, Elijah." Charlie clapped Elijah on the back before leaving. On his way through the corridor, his passed Eddy, who was chatting away on his phone. "Oh… I might have accidently broke a door." Charlie said on his way past. Eddy stopped and looked to the door in question, seeing door ripped open. He looked up at Elijah, who shrugged with a smile. Eddy just shook his head in disbelief.
"Is every one of my headline acts going to break my doors?"
"I'm not planning to." Elijah responded with a smile.
15:03
Raiden Darkoff was one in a crowd of 200,000, a great sea of anticipation and excitement. He looked like a lot of young men looked at the Festival with his jeans and hoody, as well as boots to stomp through the mud. While slightly plump, he was taller than most and as such wasn't under threat of losing sight of the stage. Not that you had to watch the stage to enjoy yourself. The music was the important part and as long as you could hear it - it was money well spent.
The electricity running through the crowd was due to one man. It was time for the first performance in 12 years from Bridge. He was perhaps the reason for the record-breaking crowd at the For The People festival, the reason so many people had squeezed together in and around the Pyramid Stage grounds.
A gong struck.
In that instant, everything went silent. No one in the massive crowd made a single noise. Instead all heads were directed towards the stage. It was time. Bridge's first solo performance. He had only performed with other bands 12 years ago, but he was extremely talented even on the side-lines. Being a solo act, these 200,000 festival goers were in for a treat.
Another gong reverberated out over the grounds. At the same time, smoke whirled from either side of the stage, forming in the middle, swirling around each other as if with a mind of their own. Then something moved at the very center of the stage. Something moved up. It didn't take long to realize it was a pure black coffin rising from the smoke with chains hanging off it. Every five seconds, the gong struck, loud and pure. The crowd was enraptured by these dark theatrics, paying closer attention to Bridge than any other performer could even hope for.
Then the coffin lid fell forward and slammed on the stage at the same time as another gong. Then Bridge stepped out, a microphone in hand. His slender figure was shadowed on the dark stage, his red contact lenses flashing like a demon in the darkness. At the first sighting of him, the crowd roared with cheers; wild, feral noise. Bridge raised the microphone to his lips and the crowd once more fell silent.
"Resurrection."
That one word was whispered, but echoed eerily out over the crowd. Four spotlights suddenly beamed down, bright on four different instruments. A drum set, a bass guitar, a grand piano, and a normal guitar. Everything other than the grand piano seemed stretched out, much like Bridge himself was. Perhaps it was to accommodate his peculiarly long arms. Bridge sat down on the drum set first and pulled two drumsticks from behind him that were tucked into his trousers.
In an instant, his arms were moving, flashing in a blur as he started playing. The rapid-fire beats were hit with precision, with the cymbals interspersed throughout. After exactly one minute, Bridge hit some kind of button below the drums with his foot. His hands stopped moving but the drums continued playing. He stood up and walked over to the grand piano and sat down once more. Once again he started in a flash, his long fingers snaking their ways over the keys, combining the clear notes of the grand piano over the heavy blast of the drum. It worked wonders. Another minute and he pressed another button, standing up again.
He repeated the process with the bass guitar before picking up the normal guitar. He placed the microphone on a stand and started playing the guitar with expert precision. There was a reason he was called a genius. Bridge leant forward, his body moving with his rhythm, and started singing.
His voice was one of a kind. It was deep, but smooth and pure. Every note was hit perfectly without even a waver, but never once did it sound robotic. It was natural, simply natural. His singing started relatively slow, working between the notes of the drums and piano. Then he increased tempo, weaving his way along with the instruments.
After six minutes of some of the best music the crowd had heard in the festival, the song ended. Bridge stood on stage, a wicked smile on his face. The crowd erupted, a volcano of hoarse cheers and waving arms. Bridge allowed the crowd to use their voices before he leaned close to the microphone again.
"Luxuria."
This pattern repeated again and again. After every song, he whispered the title of the next song in that eerie but commanding voice. Gula, Avaritia, Socordia, Ira, Invidia and finally Superbia. While Elijah Freemon and Charlie Walker got to perform four songs, Bridge was allowed a total of eight. It had been twelve years, it was a special occasion and the fans certainly wouldn't complain.
As the last notes of Superbia drifted away, the crowd gave its loudest ovation yet. Bridge stood on stage for around five minutes, taking in the cheers with that smile on his face. Then he went back through the curtain, leaving the stage empty. After another few minutes, Eddy Cool jogged out on stage, microphone in hand.
"Okay, everybody, that was one heck of a performance, but now it's time to announce the contest winners. If you get picked, remember that Bridge will perform a single song in the studio. As will Charlie Walker and Elijah Freemon. The bus will be leaving in one hour, so if your name is called out, you'll find the bus behind the Pyramid Stage. Show your pass and your identification when asked. Here are the nine that were selected."
Eddy's words were half a blur to Raiden. Bridge's performance had been one of a kind. He had never heard someone perform like that, with so much meaning behind every single note and word. However, he did pay attention to Eddy at the word 'contest'. He had signed up, in hope of meeting Bridge himself. The others were just a bonus.
Eddy cleared his throat and looked at a piece of paper. "Adam Treeland. Corey Walker. Ruby Ascot. Raiden Darkoff. Jace Ryan. Adam Collins. Jacey Rae Callibaster. Lily Talbot… and Sabrina Holland!"
I got it! Raiden couldn't mask the smile that spread across his face, despite the fact he never usually smiled like this. He figured it would be like lotto tickets. You never expect to win, just go with the thrill of being chosen. But he actually did win. He'd get to meet Bridge, the man who had made his life brighter. No other musician had the kind of effect on Raiden than Bridge. It was Bridge's music that got him through the hard times with Karen, and stopped him from doing something stupid when it was all over. Now he'd get to actually come face to face with his hero.
A/N:- Thanks to Bookreader2010 & Grojbandian180 for the reviews! Charlie Walker belongs to the aforementioned Guest, and Raiden Darkoff belongs to Darksider82. I'm aware that Raiden didn't get much screen time, but that was very much deliberate. We'll be seeing a whole lot of him over the coming weeks.
The introductions are done! Woo! Now, next chapter is the vision… and I know you guys are looking forward to it, I certainly am. We'll get our list, and we're gonna get to the blood and gore and the thick plot I have planned for Final Destination Encore. Keep a holdin' your hats, it's gonna get wild!
'Till then!
