(no subject)
TITLE: The Breaking Point
PART: Stand Alone (1/1)
RATED: PG-13ish? Maybe R. It's a little dark.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. But if I did, I'd let you have it.
A/N: Excuse any misquotes. Born from a conversation I had with lovestephenking.
"This is seriously pissing me off."
Chuck growled as he glared at Pierre pretending for the 400th time that he was Neo from The Matrix. This had gone on far too long, this kind of behaviour. Hell, he'd been dealing with it for the better part of the past thirteen years.
Reset was a learning experience: how to work a show, how to get an album pressed. But most important: Pierre Bouvier is one annoying little shithead. Chuck quit the band just to get the fuck away from him. Did it work? For awhile. Chuck thought he'd changed, it certainly seemed like he had. But no. Same annoying fucktard. Chuck had given up a lot to give this new band a try. He was confident Seb, David and Jeff could sufficiently distract Pierre to give him five minutes of peace when he needed it. If anything, they fucking instigated it! Whenever he thought about the lost sleep, the migraines, the wishes that death would just take him away...it lead him further and further to one conclusion:
Pierre Bouvier must die.
But flat out killing him was too risky and where was the fun in it anyways? An accident was much better; the death could be blamed on Pierre's own ability to fuck everything up beyond recognition so Chuck set to work.
It started innoncently enough. Chuck's conscience kept him from doing anything too cruel. Maybe an injury would cause him to quit. So Chuck dropped a few suggestions to Frank Borin on the set of the video for I'm Just a Kid: Pierre should run face-fucking-first into a door. He agreed and Pierre pulled it off without injury--unless you count being sick as hell.
Determined to hurt him worse, Chuck helped scout for the building of the I'd Do Anything video. Granted, he was so focused on how hot the club area would be for Pierre jumping around, that...he didn't realize one fundamental thing: The rest of the band had to play there too. It was hot, it was miserable and Chuck mentally kicked himself in the pants every single chance he got.
Bruised but not broken, he turned to the video shoot for Addicted. This one had him excited. He, along with his unknowing partner-in-crime, Frank Borin, explained the concept to the guys. They were to play in someone's garage (or living room. Some room, who really cared what?) and their performance would be so fucking powerful that they would bring the house down. Literally. The house was going to fall around them in pieces. Chuck had merely hoped Pierre would choke to death on the various residue in the air but was delighted when Borin came up with something even more brilliant: a fixture would drop from the ceiling to the floor, inches away from Pierre's head.
"If all goes according to plan, this falls and misses him by inches. If it doesn't go to plan, it falls on his head and kills him."
Those beautiful words were like music to Chuck's ears...until everything went exactly according to plan and it did not end up falling on Pierre's head. Hell he wasn't even that choked up by the fumes and dust in the air. So Pierre looked good, and what did the fans see of Chuck? Him losing his drumstick and having to grab another one midsong. Which could be taken one of two ways: either he was a madman who beat the shit out of his drums or he was simply a klutz who couldn't hold on to his sticks. Either way, Pierre looked better.
The Perfect set was Chuck's last time to try to work out his plan for awhile. They had collectively decided it would be the last song they released from No Pads, No Helmets...Just Balls. He had to make this one count. Long story short, he pushed for them to film on the roof of a real house in the rain. Fuck, he got to stay put and sit down, his ass wasn't going anywhere. The other guys were expendable. He didn't care, he just wanted Pierre GONE. But no. Jeff had to chicken out and the director had to deem the entire situation too dangerous. So a replica, much closer to the ground, was built. Chuck was foiled again.
I Don't Want to Think About You was similarly disappointing, though he hoped that Pierre would take a hint from the fact that he had to look like he was slipping off of a ladder attached to a tall building. Did he? No. But his klutzy ass did manage to trip over the red carpet towards the end; however in going back to "help him up", Pierre moved in a way Chuck wasn't expecting and his hand ended up planted squarely on Pierre's ass. For the world to see. Oh joy, now everyone thought he was gay and madly in love with Pierre. David didn't help things by making gay joke after gay joke. After a good length of time trying to fend off theories that he was gay, Chuck just decided to go with it and make jokes with the rest of the world. Sure it made him seem questionable, but who gave a shit. It did, however, cement the fact that Pierre would die a horrible horrible death.
Nearing the end of laying down tracks for Still Not Getting Any, it meant they had to come up with another fucking video concept. This time creative control of the concept of the Welcome to My Life video was handed entirely to Chuck. Who then insisted that Pierre be taken to the top of a 300 foot tower and be made to sit on the edge. But that would not be all! He would have to move around, have to sing. And he'd have to be alone. Atwell insisted that, for safetey reasons, he have a rope anchoring him to the building. But if he fell he was on his own. Nobody would ever know how hard Chuck prayed for an earthquake--not entirely unreasonable either: It was California, for fuck's sake. But of course, as always, Chuck grew more frustrated when his plan didn't work out. Pierre was alive and well. Extremely well.
BUT CHUCK WOULD NOT BE DETERRED. He developed the concept for Shut Up and hoped that stray pieces of glass would catch Pierre's limbs or that he would fall off of a table and crack his neck. But he knew his attempts were futile. He would come out okay and get all the attention and Chuck would be stuck behind his drum kit. It's how life went. It's how life always went. It wasn't that he was jealous, though he wouldn't have minded being in the spotlight every once in awhile. It was that Pierre was so damn...cocky. It was fucking unbelievable. And depressing.
The Untitled video shoot was turning out to be something else. Pierre still hadn't picked up on the fact that he was a ghost for one reason and one reason only: Chuck. Wanted. Him. Dead. Playin' cards with Elvis and Kurt Cobain. Just gone. But no. Chuck's subtlety was not picked up upon. It wouldn't be. Pierre is either too stupid or too self centered to pay any attention to what I have to say, he thought as he walked to the bus where he knew Pierre was sleeping. A hard day with lots of filming will do that to you, plus Bouvier had the most work. But he'll pay attention to this... he glared at Pierre's sleeping form and pulled something from his pocket. The light from the hall shone against the object in his hand--the long sharp silver blade of a knife. Chuck leaned down and raised his hand high above the sleeping Pierre, ready to let the blade rip through his body.
Oh, he'll pay attention to this...
PART: Stand Alone (1/1)
RATED: PG-13ish? Maybe R. It's a little dark.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. But if I did, I'd let you have it.
A/N: Excuse any misquotes. Born from a conversation I had with lovestephenking.
"This is seriously pissing me off."
Chuck growled as he glared at Pierre pretending for the 400th time that he was Neo from The Matrix. This had gone on far too long, this kind of behaviour. Hell, he'd been dealing with it for the better part of the past thirteen years.
Reset was a learning experience: how to work a show, how to get an album pressed. But most important: Pierre Bouvier is one annoying little shithead. Chuck quit the band just to get the fuck away from him. Did it work? For awhile. Chuck thought he'd changed, it certainly seemed like he had. But no. Same annoying fucktard. Chuck had given up a lot to give this new band a try. He was confident Seb, David and Jeff could sufficiently distract Pierre to give him five minutes of peace when he needed it. If anything, they fucking instigated it! Whenever he thought about the lost sleep, the migraines, the wishes that death would just take him away...it lead him further and further to one conclusion:
Pierre Bouvier must die.
But flat out killing him was too risky and where was the fun in it anyways? An accident was much better; the death could be blamed on Pierre's own ability to fuck everything up beyond recognition so Chuck set to work.
It started innoncently enough. Chuck's conscience kept him from doing anything too cruel. Maybe an injury would cause him to quit. So Chuck dropped a few suggestions to Frank Borin on the set of the video for I'm Just a Kid: Pierre should run face-fucking-first into a door. He agreed and Pierre pulled it off without injury--unless you count being sick as hell.
Determined to hurt him worse, Chuck helped scout for the building of the I'd Do Anything video. Granted, he was so focused on how hot the club area would be for Pierre jumping around, that...he didn't realize one fundamental thing: The rest of the band had to play there too. It was hot, it was miserable and Chuck mentally kicked himself in the pants every single chance he got.
Bruised but not broken, he turned to the video shoot for Addicted. This one had him excited. He, along with his unknowing partner-in-crime, Frank Borin, explained the concept to the guys. They were to play in someone's garage (or living room. Some room, who really cared what?) and their performance would be so fucking powerful that they would bring the house down. Literally. The house was going to fall around them in pieces. Chuck had merely hoped Pierre would choke to death on the various residue in the air but was delighted when Borin came up with something even more brilliant: a fixture would drop from the ceiling to the floor, inches away from Pierre's head.
"If all goes according to plan, this falls and misses him by inches. If it doesn't go to plan, it falls on his head and kills him."
Those beautiful words were like music to Chuck's ears...until everything went exactly according to plan and it did not end up falling on Pierre's head. Hell he wasn't even that choked up by the fumes and dust in the air. So Pierre looked good, and what did the fans see of Chuck? Him losing his drumstick and having to grab another one midsong. Which could be taken one of two ways: either he was a madman who beat the shit out of his drums or he was simply a klutz who couldn't hold on to his sticks. Either way, Pierre looked better.
The Perfect set was Chuck's last time to try to work out his plan for awhile. They had collectively decided it would be the last song they released from No Pads, No Helmets...Just Balls. He had to make this one count. Long story short, he pushed for them to film on the roof of a real house in the rain. Fuck, he got to stay put and sit down, his ass wasn't going anywhere. The other guys were expendable. He didn't care, he just wanted Pierre GONE. But no. Jeff had to chicken out and the director had to deem the entire situation too dangerous. So a replica, much closer to the ground, was built. Chuck was foiled again.
I Don't Want to Think About You was similarly disappointing, though he hoped that Pierre would take a hint from the fact that he had to look like he was slipping off of a ladder attached to a tall building. Did he? No. But his klutzy ass did manage to trip over the red carpet towards the end; however in going back to "help him up", Pierre moved in a way Chuck wasn't expecting and his hand ended up planted squarely on Pierre's ass. For the world to see. Oh joy, now everyone thought he was gay and madly in love with Pierre. David didn't help things by making gay joke after gay joke. After a good length of time trying to fend off theories that he was gay, Chuck just decided to go with it and make jokes with the rest of the world. Sure it made him seem questionable, but who gave a shit. It did, however, cement the fact that Pierre would die a horrible horrible death.
Nearing the end of laying down tracks for Still Not Getting Any, it meant they had to come up with another fucking video concept. This time creative control of the concept of the Welcome to My Life video was handed entirely to Chuck. Who then insisted that Pierre be taken to the top of a 300 foot tower and be made to sit on the edge. But that would not be all! He would have to move around, have to sing. And he'd have to be alone. Atwell insisted that, for safetey reasons, he have a rope anchoring him to the building. But if he fell he was on his own. Nobody would ever know how hard Chuck prayed for an earthquake--not entirely unreasonable either: It was California, for fuck's sake. But of course, as always, Chuck grew more frustrated when his plan didn't work out. Pierre was alive and well. Extremely well.
BUT CHUCK WOULD NOT BE DETERRED. He developed the concept for Shut Up and hoped that stray pieces of glass would catch Pierre's limbs or that he would fall off of a table and crack his neck. But he knew his attempts were futile. He would come out okay and get all the attention and Chuck would be stuck behind his drum kit. It's how life went. It's how life always went. It wasn't that he was jealous, though he wouldn't have minded being in the spotlight every once in awhile. It was that Pierre was so damn...cocky. It was fucking unbelievable. And depressing.
The Untitled video shoot was turning out to be something else. Pierre still hadn't picked up on the fact that he was a ghost for one reason and one reason only: Chuck. Wanted. Him. Dead. Playin' cards with Elvis and Kurt Cobain. Just gone. But no. Chuck's subtlety was not picked up upon. It wouldn't be. Pierre is either too stupid or too self centered to pay any attention to what I have to say, he thought as he walked to the bus where he knew Pierre was sleeping. A hard day with lots of filming will do that to you, plus Bouvier had the most work. But he'll pay attention to this... he glared at Pierre's sleeping form and pulled something from his pocket. The light from the hall shone against the object in his hand--the long sharp silver blade of a knife. Chuck leaned down and raised his hand high above the sleeping Pierre, ready to let the blade rip through his body.
Oh, he'll pay attention to this...