Linkin Park Oneshots!!

Second To None

This was requested by JacksterShinoda! I am excited about this one even though I'm not good at writing this sort of thing. Hope you enjoy!

His name was Mike Shinoda, leader of Los Angeles's own Mafia. They were an underground group, known as Hybrid Theory. Mike picked the name because everyone in the group had their own lives, each leading member was highly successful with their careers outside of their little group.

This "little group" of theirs was known to keep order in LA, because they were the biggest and most powerful in the city. Turns out having successful leaders gave their group an advantage, money. Without Hybrid Theory, Los Angeles would be in ruins of the imminent chaos that would ensue if the group disbanded.

Outside of the Mafia, Mike Shinoda was an artist, one who made thousands per day selling drawings and paintings to museums and displaying it in art galleries, where he would sell them at the highest bid possible. He signed each painting as M. Shinoda, and most people figured that Mike had a brother. They couldn't perceive Mike Shinoda to be a painter, not with all the bad juju his name held. He was notorious for his cutthroat attitude and his desire to keep things in order. Whilst most knew his name, hardly any knew his face.

People knew Mike Shinoda, he heard someone whisper his name almost every single time he walked outside, and he watched as parents shielded their children from him, backing away because they were scared of him. Mike thought it was complete nonsense, he would never do anything to harm innocent people, he hated the idea of it. Those that did, they deserved to pay. And that's exactly what led Mike to create such a group known as Hybrid Theory.

As Mike tightened his tie, he heard a knock on his door. Sighing, he grabbed his triple tinted sunglasses and headed for the door, not forgetting to switch off the bathroom light on his way out.

As he ran towards the door, the knocking became more persistent. "Okay, okay! I'm coming!" Mike darted for the door and opened it up to reveal his partner in crime, Chester Bennington.

Chester was MIke's best friend, and also his right hand man. He helped Mike lead the group, and he was the only one who could talk back to him. Unlike Mike, Chester was a successful businessman with his friend, Sean. The two owned a popular tattoo parlor called Club Tattoo.

"Mike!" Chester ran into the mansion, not one bit phased by the sight of everything Mike owned.

"Chester?" Mike flipped his sunglasses up onto his head as he welcomed his friend into the home. "What's going on?"

"Where's Anna? And Maria?" Chester asked frantically. (I don't actually know Mike's daughters name, or if he has a daughter at all but here we go anyway!)

"They're..." Mike racked his brain to try and remember where his wife and daughter were. "Upstairs? I don't know!" Mike remembered getting into an argument with Anna the previous night, so she slept alone. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen either of them that morning.

"Mike..." Chester's tone completely changed from a frantic one to a serious one. "Check your phone."

Mike, now worried, felt around in his pockets for his phone, running upstairs to his bedroom when he realized he didn't have it. When he returned, he was out of breath. "What is it?"

"Let me see it." Chester reached his arm out to grab Mike's phone but he protested. Mike liked to keep things private. 'Mike," he warned, "now is not the time to shimmy away. Let me see your phone." Chester demanded, his voice had gone down at least two octaves. Mike eventually handed it over.

"What's this?" He asked as Chester hit play.

"Shh, it's a voicemail. From this morning. Listen closely." Chester whispered, listening to the voicemail intently.