TS: snapshots from FBR
TS info post is here.
Since we're in a new month, I thought I'd post some bits from the other bands. These are from various points in the timeline, but are all grouped [currently] under the same arc, Sugar, We're Going Down. FBR-centric.
~~~~
Beginnings Are Always Weak
~Jon Walker
The first indication that maybe, possibly, he'd made the right decision happened early in Jon's dealings with Panic, on their first tour.
He'd walked into the dressing room, in time to see Spencer pulling something - or rather, some Thing- off of Brendon. That Thing then proceeded to go after Spencer, until Brendon shouted, snagging its attention again. While it stared at Brendon with flat red eyes, claws flexing and breath rasping up between jagged teeth, Spencer growled out a phrase, afraid and desperate, that Jon couldn't quite hear. The creature -Jon can't even define what it is, despite his thorough education- froze in its tracks. Spencer and Brendon were breathing heavily, eyes wide as they stared at the Thing. Jon looked at their attacker - he can see the muscles twitching in tail tip and along the back of the Thing's leathery calves as it fights the bind.
Shit.
He sighs, steps forward and cuts off its head with his short sword. Spencer and Brendon stare at him. Jon hadn't thought their eyes could get any wider. There was a loud pop and hiss as the creature started to dissolve down into a brackish slime. Brendon startled so abruptly at the sound, Jon winced.
~~~~
Say Goodbye
~Jon Walker
They get the phone call while they're in Amsterdam. Jon's cell hadn't picked up much in the way of a signal since they flew into Paris. But at the end of a long night out it buzzed as they climbed back onto the bus.
"Hey, put me on speaker phone."
Jon glanced around the bus - the rest of his band stared back. "It's Andy."
He turns the phone over to speaker and they huddle close. "Go ahead." Jon says.
"Hey guys, sorry to call mid-tour..."
"It's time, isn't it?" Brendon says, cutting Andy off.
There’s a long static-filled silence on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it is. We've become too much of a danger for our fans and the people around us."
"They almost got Patrick three days ago." Pete says, the words a tinny growl of fear and anger.
"Shit. Is he okay?" Jon asks.
"I'm fine." Patrick says, his voice tight. "But that was the fifth attack in two weeks."
"When are you..." Jon hesitates, glances over at Ryan. He's pale, face expressionless.
"We've chartered a boat for a tour of San Francisco Bay tomorrow." Andy says.
"Oh."
"You probably want to be out of reach for a few days, maybe a week."
"And after that?" Spencer asks.
"When you can't find us, contact Gabe. I'm leaving him the bulk of my assets." Pete replies. "I'm leaving some...things to Mikey Way, too."
"Good thinking." Jon says.
"You guys be careful and when it's your turn?"
Jon shudders internally at the thought, and tries to not look at Ryan. "Yeah?"
"Get to Colorado. Leave from there."
"Right."
"Good luck." Spencer says.
"We'll miss you." Ryan says, his voice low.
"Yeah." Pete sounds subdued, utterly unlike himself. An ache settles in Jon's chest, behind his breastbone. "We'll see you soon enough."
"Hold the line, dudes. I have faith in you." Joe said.
"Hey Andy, would you tell..." All of Jon's words dry up. He can feel his band watching him curiously.
"I will."
And they were gone.
The four of them stare at each other, wide-eyed and far too pale.
We're next. Jon thinks. At least they all know... He thinks about Mikey Way, the stubborn set of his jaw, defensive tilt of narrow hips. And I get to tell him to watch out, try to convince him to talk to his guys. Joy.
"Gabe's going to flip out." Brendon says, his leg jiggling.
"His band will watch out for him. Travis and Bill will keep an eye on all of them." Jon says, absently reaching out to touch Brendon's knee. Brendon stills under his hand.
~~~~
A Wild Hair
~Cash Colligan
Cash pretty much flew by the seat of his pants most of the time. That was fine by him - when he listened, really listened to himself and the low twist of his instincts, shit worked out for him. Sometimes his mouth got him in trouble - okay, so his mouth got him into trouble A LOT, but he couldn't regret his blabbermouth ways. Being a loudmouthed douchebag was what got him Singer and his band, after all. That was worth all the slaps in the face, and occasional sucker punches. It's not like he can HELP himself; there's a wide streak of laughter inside him that just won't shut UP and Cash has to listen to it. When he doesn't shit goes really, really wrong.
He still blames himself for the crash. If he'd listened... Cash shakes off that thought every time it winds itself through his consciousness. Yes, he'd seconded guessed himself that night, but there's nothing he could do about it now. And sometimes - most of the time - he thinks he made the right decision, to walk away from that girl. Sure, she'd been cute. Okay, she'd been hot. Like MTV rock starlet hot. But... there'd been something about her that rubbed Cash the wrong way. It wasn't anything specific or logical - just the way her eyes caught the light backstage. He kept seeing something hovering around her out of the corner of his eye too, and that freaked him out. But if he was being honest? Cash REALLY didn't like the way she'd looked at his band. There'd been a glint of hunger in her eyes, when she'd looked at Ian in particular, that made the hair stand up on the back of Cash's neck. He'd wanted to growl, to protect his guitarist...from a friggin' girl.
But then they crashed, and Cash can't stop thinking about her, wondering if walking away had been the right decision. Late at night, when he lies in another crappy hotel room, he shifts closer to Singer and tries to still his thoughts. Singer bitches about having to share beds, but always ends up wrapping his skinny ass limbs around Cash halfway through the night. Cash would make a big deal about it, if anyone else saw, but they don't and besides he kinda likes it. It makes him feel safe. It reminds him that his band is safe. When he lies in the dark, Singer wrapped around him, listening to the rustles of sliding sheets and Marshall's slurred snoring, Cash stops wondering and knows. Knows,beyond a shadow of a doubt, that walking away from that girl with a heat mirage for a shadow was the right thing to do.
There's a wild streak that Cash rides, just as much as it rides him. But he thinks that maybe that's what keeps them all alive. And he'd do anything for his band. So...
~~~~
Since we're in a new month, I thought I'd post some bits from the other bands. These are from various points in the timeline, but are all grouped [currently] under the same arc, Sugar, We're Going Down. FBR-centric.
~~~~
Beginnings Are Always Weak
~Jon Walker
The first indication that maybe, possibly, he'd made the right decision happened early in Jon's dealings with Panic, on their first tour.
He'd walked into the dressing room, in time to see Spencer pulling something - or rather, some Thing- off of Brendon. That Thing then proceeded to go after Spencer, until Brendon shouted, snagging its attention again. While it stared at Brendon with flat red eyes, claws flexing and breath rasping up between jagged teeth, Spencer growled out a phrase, afraid and desperate, that Jon couldn't quite hear. The creature -Jon can't even define what it is, despite his thorough education- froze in its tracks. Spencer and Brendon were breathing heavily, eyes wide as they stared at the Thing. Jon looked at their attacker - he can see the muscles twitching in tail tip and along the back of the Thing's leathery calves as it fights the bind.
Shit.
He sighs, steps forward and cuts off its head with his short sword. Spencer and Brendon stare at him. Jon hadn't thought their eyes could get any wider. There was a loud pop and hiss as the creature started to dissolve down into a brackish slime. Brendon startled so abruptly at the sound, Jon winced.
~~~~
Say Goodbye
~Jon Walker
They get the phone call while they're in Amsterdam. Jon's cell hadn't picked up much in the way of a signal since they flew into Paris. But at the end of a long night out it buzzed as they climbed back onto the bus.
"Hey, put me on speaker phone."
Jon glanced around the bus - the rest of his band stared back. "It's Andy."
He turns the phone over to speaker and they huddle close. "Go ahead." Jon says.
"Hey guys, sorry to call mid-tour..."
"It's time, isn't it?" Brendon says, cutting Andy off.
There’s a long static-filled silence on the other end of the line. "Yeah, it is. We've become too much of a danger for our fans and the people around us."
"They almost got Patrick three days ago." Pete says, the words a tinny growl of fear and anger.
"Shit. Is he okay?" Jon asks.
"I'm fine." Patrick says, his voice tight. "But that was the fifth attack in two weeks."
"When are you..." Jon hesitates, glances over at Ryan. He's pale, face expressionless.
"We've chartered a boat for a tour of San Francisco Bay tomorrow." Andy says.
"Oh."
"You probably want to be out of reach for a few days, maybe a week."
"And after that?" Spencer asks.
"When you can't find us, contact Gabe. I'm leaving him the bulk of my assets." Pete replies. "I'm leaving some...things to Mikey Way, too."
"Good thinking." Jon says.
"You guys be careful and when it's your turn?"
Jon shudders internally at the thought, and tries to not look at Ryan. "Yeah?"
"Get to Colorado. Leave from there."
"Right."
"Good luck." Spencer says.
"We'll miss you." Ryan says, his voice low.
"Yeah." Pete sounds subdued, utterly unlike himself. An ache settles in Jon's chest, behind his breastbone. "We'll see you soon enough."
"Hold the line, dudes. I have faith in you." Joe said.
"Hey Andy, would you tell..." All of Jon's words dry up. He can feel his band watching him curiously.
"I will."
And they were gone.
The four of them stare at each other, wide-eyed and far too pale.
We're next. Jon thinks. At least they all know... He thinks about Mikey Way, the stubborn set of his jaw, defensive tilt of narrow hips. And I get to tell him to watch out, try to convince him to talk to his guys. Joy.
"Gabe's going to flip out." Brendon says, his leg jiggling.
"His band will watch out for him. Travis and Bill will keep an eye on all of them." Jon says, absently reaching out to touch Brendon's knee. Brendon stills under his hand.
~~~~
A Wild Hair
~Cash Colligan
Cash pretty much flew by the seat of his pants most of the time. That was fine by him - when he listened, really listened to himself and the low twist of his instincts, shit worked out for him. Sometimes his mouth got him in trouble - okay, so his mouth got him into trouble A LOT, but he couldn't regret his blabbermouth ways. Being a loudmouthed douchebag was what got him Singer and his band, after all. That was worth all the slaps in the face, and occasional sucker punches. It's not like he can HELP himself; there's a wide streak of laughter inside him that just won't shut UP and Cash has to listen to it. When he doesn't shit goes really, really wrong.
He still blames himself for the crash. If he'd listened... Cash shakes off that thought every time it winds itself through his consciousness. Yes, he'd seconded guessed himself that night, but there's nothing he could do about it now. And sometimes - most of the time - he thinks he made the right decision, to walk away from that girl. Sure, she'd been cute. Okay, she'd been hot. Like MTV rock starlet hot. But... there'd been something about her that rubbed Cash the wrong way. It wasn't anything specific or logical - just the way her eyes caught the light backstage. He kept seeing something hovering around her out of the corner of his eye too, and that freaked him out. But if he was being honest? Cash REALLY didn't like the way she'd looked at his band. There'd been a glint of hunger in her eyes, when she'd looked at Ian in particular, that made the hair stand up on the back of Cash's neck. He'd wanted to growl, to protect his guitarist...from a friggin' girl.
But then they crashed, and Cash can't stop thinking about her, wondering if walking away had been the right decision. Late at night, when he lies in another crappy hotel room, he shifts closer to Singer and tries to still his thoughts. Singer bitches about having to share beds, but always ends up wrapping his skinny ass limbs around Cash halfway through the night. Cash would make a big deal about it, if anyone else saw, but they don't and besides he kinda likes it. It makes him feel safe. It reminds him that his band is safe. When he lies in the dark, Singer wrapped around him, listening to the rustles of sliding sheets and Marshall's slurred snoring, Cash stops wondering and knows. Knows,beyond a shadow of a doubt, that walking away from that girl with a heat mirage for a shadow was the right thing to do.
There's a wild streak that Cash rides, just as much as it rides him. But he thinks that maybe that's what keeps them all alive. And he'd do anything for his band. So...
~~~~