The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 24

The group of six was sitting against the walls of a van they were thrown into, their hands secured behind their backs and gunny sacks tied over their heads so that they couldn't see where they were being taken, though it wouldn't have made a difference if they could see - the windows were painted over, allowing no light to pass through.

Most of the prisoners were just sitting there, silently, motionless, guilt weighing them down as it sunk in for them what they'd done.

All they wanted was the return of a world filled with art, literature, film, and most importantly, music. Having not thought of a better, more effective, less dangerous plan, they blindly went through with it; Mara, Gabe, and Alex believing the words Tyler whispered in their ears and the three band members believing the words the three aforementioned whispered in theirs. But the plan was flawed, there was no way they were going to get out of this alive. At least, that's what they were starting to tell themselves.

But then there was Pete, fury still raging inside of him. He knew this wasn't over. He knew that killing the president was only the first step of many, that it wasn't going to automatically resolve the chaos that the government had inflicted upon its people. He was thrashing in his spot in the back of the van, tugging at the ropes wrapped tightly around his wrists as he tried to escape.

"Who the fuck even tied these?" He grumbled under his breath as he gave up, groaning in defeat. He knew tugging at the ropes wasn't going to free him - he needed to cut them, but how could he when there was nothing for him to cut them with?

While Pete was contemplating a way to break free, Patrick - who was sitting beside him - was mentally beating himself up, regretting every decision he had made that led up to this moment in time. He regretted agreeing to kill the president, he regretted being part of the show that killed so many innocent people like him, he regretted staying to "save rock and roll", he regretted not taking that job he honestly couldn't care about (because at least then he wouldn't be held hostage in the back of a van), and he regretted not playing that song for Mara. What harm was one song, played in the privacy of their home, going to do?

He heaved a sigh and rested his head back. Patrick wanted to help, he really did, but look where helping got him. Headed straight to what he presumed was going to be his premature death - for being an accomplice in a crime he didn't was still on the fence about committing.

Sitting across from Pete and Patrick was the one who actually committed the crime, Joe, quite opposite of his two friends. He was in complete euphoria, his heart pounding against his chest as adrenaline pumped through his veins, the rush of killing the president not having worn off yet. Ever since the day the ban was set in place, there was nothing more the former guitarist wanted than to kill the man behind his misery. The president took away everything that meant to him - his band, the love of his life, everything. So when he heard what the true motive behind this mission was, he'd never been more excited in his life.

Just then, the van slowed to a stop, and shortly after, the doors were pulled open. The setting sun shone directly into the back of the van, illuminating the six figures hunched over, clueless as to where they were or what was to occur.

One of the two men who had opened the van doors grabbed the person closest to him in the van and pulled them outside, the other guiding them away from the van. The two repeated this for the remaining five, until all of them were out. The van doors were slammed shut and the six of them were knelt down on the pavement of a parking lot. The bags were torn off of their heads, their hair becoming disheveled, and their vision was restored. Standing in front of them was Tyler and another man, a man none of them recognized with fiery red hair.

"Tyler," Mara breathed gratefully.

"What is with you guys and always fucking things up?" Tyler snapped, disregarding his conspirator's relief to see him. He looked at the five former band members, specifically the three he recruited. "I gave you a simple task. Go in, follow the cues, and get the job done. But then you had to go and jump the gun...literally!" He grabbed Joe by the collar and pulled the guitarist up so that he was looking directly into his eyes, "What part of 'you'll know what to do and when to do it' don't you understand?"

The guitarist remained silent.

Tyler rolled his eyes and tossed Joe back to the ground, "Whatever. The president's dead - there's no doubt about that - but now it's time for our next step."

"Next step?" Patrick inquired.

"Of course. You thought just killing the president was going to take the ban down?" Before the singer could answer the rhetorical question, the brains behind the operation continued, "No, killing the president only was one minor part of the big picture. Now we've got to start the revolution. We've been recruiting people outside of this mission, and soon we'll all come together and tear down the rest of the government, the ones who keep this ban in place. You understand me?"

"How are we not dead right now?" Pete asked irrelevantly.

"Because I intervened, obviously," Tyler spat back sassily, shooting a glare in the former bassist's direction, "Did you think I wasn't going to be there if things went wrong?" Silence. "Exactly, I'll always have your guys' backs, at least while we're still fighting to bring back what was wrongfully taken out of our hands. Now stop asking questions, we don't have time to sit around and catch. We've got a ban to take down." And with that, he spun around and stalked back towards what no one had noticed was the hotel they arrived at earlier that day.

Tyler's friend heaved a sigh and pulled out a pocket knife, going to cut the ropes from the driving forces behind this' wrists.