Celph and Jared exchanged wary eye contact. Mike just stared. Then he moved. He was storming towards them. Celph held his hands up as Jared impulsively back peddled. Mike stopped but didn’t seem happy to as Celph hurriedly explained what he knew. That, at this early stage of the official police investigation, wasn’t much. A black car. A man in a puffy green jacket and glasses. He had been wearing a hat. No one seemed to remember what style. It could have been his hair. Clearly irritated Mike gnashed his teeth and shook his head. Even at such relatively close quarters it was clearly disarming to see the tears of rage still in his eyes. He had another man with him when it happened. No one knew who the other man was or where he went. The car turned and deliberately ploughed Brad down. Hearing that detail Mike bowed his head and shook it. His fingers were white as they gripped to his face. Mike couldn’t speak. There was nothing to say anyway. The details of the ‘accident’ were nothing new to him, he could still hear the words of the nursing staff in his ears. Brad’s wife would be devastated, but Mike was having a hard time trying to consider consoling her. He seemed to stand with his head bowed sweeping his eyes and hiding them forever but no own seemed game enough to stop him. It was a well-publicized fact that Mike Shinoda and Brad Delson, professor at one of the city’s longest standing colleges, had been the closest of friends. They had grown up together and, moving from LA together, even attended the same college that Brad would one day come to teach at. During Mike’s recent rise to power Brad had been a proud recipient of his friend’s generosity attending prestigious dinners for scholarships they mutually founded and funded for the underprivileged, and were often seen being snapped side by side by the paparazzi, full of smiles and adulation. When Rashell had been shot Brad and his wife had been her first visitors, and Brad had been a constant source of guidance and support during his earlier brushes with the law. They were in essence like brothers, and Brad’s callous murder was the final straw to Mike’s already burdened back. Unable to turn to anyone now Mike blinked up and both men took a small step back when he did. It wasn’t the fact that there were tears streaming down his cheeks or the harrowed stare set like stone on his face, though that definitely played a part. No, in an instant Mike was ripping his jacket off and kicking off his shoes.
“Give me your clothes,” he urged Celph.
The older man frowned but didn’t argue as he tentatively traded garb. Soon standing in the baggy street wear he once wore on the dingy streets of New York Mike gave himself an appraising glance and let out a tiny half-formed smirk. It wasn’t happy. It was cruel. In more ways than one he was shedding his skin. His time up here in the lofty towers surrounded by expensive this and priceless that, meant nothing to him anymore. He had built an empire and beat the rich ****** at their own game but his time of self-gratification was over. Up here he had lost touch and his disassociation with the street had gotten him to the top but it had come at a terrible and tragic cost. Well, fear was for those who had something left to lose, and Mike had no fear left in the world anymore. Pulling the cap low about his brow he lifted the hood and kicked the baggy cuffs of his low pants loose over his pumps. He felt free. He felt wired. He was ready. Glimpsing at Celph and at Jared he nodded, wiped his face of any trace of grief, and regained composure.
“Find the others. Get them to me. Midnight, Rockerfeller Plaza,” he said, shifting the cap’s brim so it completely obscured his face from the overhead fluorescent light. “You’ve got three hours.”
“It’s Friday night,” Jared said with an incredulous smile.
It faltered beneath Mike’s blank-eyed stare. He threw his focus to the floor as Celph beside him was stirring uncomfortably beneath the tailor-made suit pants and jacket.
“Three hours,” Mike reminded. “I’m gonna find out the ******* rat in this ship before it sinks once and for all. You get the word out. If one of ours had anything at all to do with this they’ll run. If they’re smart. If they don’t…” Mike shrugged. He snorted and continued to smirk but it was so cold it was practically a threat.
Celph and Jared glimpsed at each other before they nodded and looked at the ground.
“Where are you going to go?” one of them braved.
Mike appeared to consider his answer a moment but he didn’t respond. Standing there in the worn baggy threads of a common street rapper, he looked as sinister as he did in a thousand dollar suit – only the cold stare in his eyes had changed. Though his cheeks were still flushed from tears Mike Shinoda appeared to be made of polished stone, and just as unforgiving. With dutiful nods Celph and Jared Leto bowed out and left Mike alone to his grief. But Mike had no intentions of staying here in this lofty tower or the mess he had created in it, any further. Strolling out behind them he pointed at the secretary lingering expectantly behind her desk and she drew to her feet immediately.
“You, you’re fired,” he said.
That was it.
Unbeknownst to any of them Mike had no intentions of coming back here or setting foot in this monument of glass and steel and rose smelling **** ever again. If he had his way he would have walked out and let it burn to the ground behind him. Ignoring the woman’s cries and the sound of anyone still in the office at this hour regarding his new dress code without so much as a sideways glance, Mike strolled into the elevator and stabbed a button and waited in the center of the polished gold box with his shoulders low and his fists jammed inside his hip pockets. Celph and Jared that had lagged behind lingered hesitantly and thought twice about stepping in. Mike summoned his eyes up from the floor and warned them not to bother. He had business to attend to right now. If they had any brains they would leave him be – and they did just that. At a respectable distance they waited as Mike stepped forward and jabbed another button and pulled at the brim of his cap like a cowboy bidding his salutary farewell before riding off into the sunset. Then he shoved his fist back into his hip pocket and resumed his solitary stance in the center of the floor. Then the doors chimed and hissed to a close and just like that businessman and entrepreneur Mike Shinoda was gone.
---
Okay I haven't even proofread this, I just finished penning that like... 20mins ago and here it is. It's my usual way of posting thesedays, I only edit AFTER I update, so the version I have on my laptop is never the same exactly as what you have (also for copyright reasons, I aint an idiot
) SO that's when I repeatedly say 'I hope this makes sense' you know why - cause I'm too lazy to make sure I haven't repeated myself in the story. If I have *shrug* I fix it here at home later. If not, even better. Makes me happy. Happyish. Sorta.
AGAIN this is NOT the last chapter, that's by my best guestimations at least a week or so off yet if I keep at this pace. Pretty good for half a week of hangovers, but pretty soon I'll burn out in some form, so I want to get it finished before that happens. Anyway, hope it all ties in, oh and just for the record Sarah, the last update you mentioned something about Rob being an ***. Would pay to keep in mind he's the ONLY one now fighting to keep her safe while you lay half dead in ICU somewhere. Remember that
Just had to clear that up.
And sis - happy you like. Yes you're pregnant and engaged to another man - and look who's just rocked back up on the scene - uh oh
*** I love my twisted little imagination sometimes. Sorry for the nightmares Mel... care to share? Might give me more ideas!! :spiteful:
Thanks again guys. More tomorrow. *hugs*
Edit - It's worth mentioning, 'Creative ******' - thanks sis, that made me grin big and blush like an idiot but seems to fit haha. Wow, makes me one helluva happy writer that being the case huh? :lol: Thanks. Just had to say thanks for that gem <3
