"I say we go for it."
"No. No way. It's too risky."
"Risky? Everything we do these days is a risk! C'mon, Deaky. We owe it to ourselves."
"They'll come after us."
"They'll come after us whether we do this or not, and you know it."
"Come on, Deaky. What have we got to lose?"
"Apart from our sanity?"
"We lost that a long time ago, remember?"
Three men, looking tired and haggard, stood huddled together in the cold evening air, coats drawn tightly around them. Behind them stood a deserted, derelict old stadium, full of nothing but memories.
"If this place could talk, eh?" a man with long curly black hair said.
"Yeah …" said a man with close-cropped, thinning grey hair. All three men gazed up fondly at the stadium. There was a pause for a few seconds as they contemplated the good and bad memories of the old place.
"We'd get such a bollocking, wouldn't we?" a man with light blonde hair and sunglasses said with a small chuckle. The other two chuckled quietly as well before looking at each other.
"It's now or never, John," the blond man said.
"I know," sighed John. He hesitated for a second, then turned to the man with the curly hair.
"What d'you reckon, Brian?" he said. "One last gift for Freddie?"
"Like Roger said," replied Brian with a determined smile. "Let's go for it." The other two nodded conspiratorially and, as one, they all turned to stand in a row and face the deserted Wembley Stadium.
"This time tomorrow, those towers'll be history," Roger said quietly.
"Not if we can help it," Brian said just as softly. A slight breeze ruffled his hair and made his coat fan out behind him. The sun had almost completely disappeared past the horizon, throwing the sky into a blaze of colour.
"Are you sure this is gonna work, Bri?" John asked.
"Of course not. But we have to try. I dunno about you two, but I can't just sit back and let all this happen. And we all know what Freddie said here, all those years ago. We're gonna stay together until we fucking well die, I'm sure." There was an anxious pause as Brian stared at Roger and John sternly. "At any rate, if we can't do this … well, nobody can say we didn't try."
Roger and John looked at each other nervously. They had rarely seen Brian this determined.
"Look, we were all there. We bloody well know what Freddie told us about Bohemian Rhapsody. I dunno how he knew, but he knew what was going to happen, and it doesn't sound pretty. So if you two want to go and do nothing, fine by me, but I'm staying. I'm staying to try and do something for the kids of the future."
There was a solemn pause as Brian let his little speech sink in. The breeze had started to pick up slightly, and was turning into a blowing wind, icy cold against their uncovered faces. Brian stood there, his face set, as Roger and John stared back uncomfortably. After a few minutes of silence between the three, John gave a great sigh.
"Well, come on, then," he said resignedly, though smiling slightly. "We haven't got all evening." Brian grinned widely and turned to face Roger.
"Well, Roger?" he asked. "What's your decision?" Roger faced Brian with an impassive face.
"I've been part of this band for nearly thirty years," he said, "and not once do I remember agreeing with you." He didn't smile. He was deadly serious. "As I remember, we disagreed on practically everything we ever did." His face was cold and impassive. Brian's spirits sunk slightly.
"Time to break the habit of a lifetime, I think," Roger said, starting to grin. Brian laughed out loud and clapped Roger on the back.
"Good on you," he said. "Now, let's do this." They all nodded once as Brian picked up his guitar, which had been leaning against the wall, and held it fondly.
"You've got a copy of it, haven't you?" Roger asked.
"Yeah, I've got about half a dozen," Brian replied quietly. "But they're not a patch on the real thing." He gave a small sniff and gulped slightly, before sighing. "Still, it's no good to me any more. Let's see if it can't change the future."
They all walked briskly to stand in front of the main gates, which were heavily padlocked. A few bits of rubbish were blown along the ground by the increasing wind. They all looked at it for what would probably be their last time, taking in everything they could, memorising all the little details. Each of them were thinking about different aspects of their many visits here, but each memory was a happy one.
After a few minutes of contemplation, Brian looked at Roger and John on either side of him, faced the gates again and took a step forward, still holding his beloved homemade guitar. Roger and John looked at each other, winked and started to stamp and clap to the beat of 'We Will Rock You'. As it was only two people, it didn't make much of a sound, especially with the wind picking up speed – nevertheless, Brian smiled slightly, and the beat gave him strength.
He closed his eyes and started muttering something under his breath, very quickly. Roger and John carried on clapping, coming forwards to stand next to Brian. At the right moment, they started muttering as well, the same unintelligible words as Brian.
They started to pick up the speed and volume of the words as the wind howled around them, whipping their hair and coats behind them. They were all shouting in perfect unison, though what they were shouting no-one near would have been able to tell. Suddenly but perfectly in time, they all shouted one single word, and Brian threw his guitar towards the gates with all his might. An almighty blast threw them all off their feet, and a great flash of light nearly blinded them, but moments later everything was still and silent. Even the wind had stopped blowing.
They all struggled to sit up, groaning and rubbing their backs or arms where they had fallen. They blinked several times and looked around them, expecting to see shattered pieces of wood, broken wires and dented gates – but not being able to find anything.
The guitar had vanished.
"I'm too old for this," Roger muttered crossly, retrieving his sunglasses from the floor, where they had fallen.
"Did – did it work?" John asked tentatively, rubbing his head.
"It must have done," Brian said, staring incredulously at the gates. "Can you see my guitar anywhere?" All three looked around them. Not a piece of wood or a broken wire could be seen anywhere.
"It worked," Brian said quietly. Then he grinned widely and punched the air. "It worked!" he shouted happily. He got up off the floor and ran to the gates, inspecting every post and railing. "There's not a mark on them," he told the others. "Come and look."
Roger and John got up as well and went to Brian. Roger kicked one of the railings in the gate, trying to dent it, but all he achieved was a very sore toe. As he mumbled strings of four-letter obscenities, John turned to Brian.
"What happens now?" he asked, in all seriousness.
"Well, assuming this part went to plan … nothing. Absolutely nothing." He looked up at the sky, which was now filled with hundreds of twinkling stars. "We'll just have to wait and see what happens." He looked back at John and Roger and smiled. "Come on, let's go. We've done everything we need to do here. Let's just hope someone appreciates what we've done."
"Appreciates it?" Roger said. "They're gonna knock it down tomorrow!"
"We'll see," said Brian. He turned to John and smiled at him. John smiled back and shook Brian's hand slowly.
"See you around, Deaky," said Brian.
"See you around," replied John. They let go of hands, and John went over to Roger. Roger grinned and shook John's hand as well.
"Thanks," was all Roger said to John.
"No problem."
John pulled his coat closer around him and walked off down the street. Roger stood there silently for a moment before facing Brian and holding out his hand.
"Thanks for doing this, Brian," he said. Brian looked down at Roger's hand, then back at his face. He smiled and gave Roger a great hug. Roger chuckled again and hugged Brian back.
"Thank you," Brian said. They drew back, shook hands and grinned at each other one last time before Roger turned and walked away. Brian turned to walk too, but stopped and hesitated. He turned back to face Wembley one last time, and heard Freddie's words echoing in his head again.
"We're gonna stay together until we fucking well die, I'm sure."
He looked up at the night sky, gazing at the stars, and gave a small smile.
"This one's for you, Freddie," he muttered, a few tears glistening in his eyes.
And with that, the last remaining members of Queen – John Deacon, Roger Taylor and Brian May – went their separate ways. They stayed in contact with each other for many years, until they were arrested and executed by the head of the brand new GlobalSoft© corporation. As for Wembley Stadium, it was demolished as planned, except for the main pillars and gates, which they were somehow unable to knock down. GlobalSoft decided to leave Wembley Stadium in ruins, as there was nothing that could be done with it. Instead, they simply cordoned it off permanently, and went into negotiations on what was once called the Millennium Dome.
Many stories and rumours about what had happened to Queen and their instruments followed over the next few hundred years, but the exact details would never be known. The details would be forever lost.
The legend would not.