Layers of Me

Chapter 1

*As usual. The bold and Italic are all of them singing while just italic is just one of them singing.*

Okay. God. What do ya wanna know 'bout my ass? Who am I? Okay, the name's Zaniel Keller. Or Zangel Krypt for my fans. I'm the drummer for Hell's Enemy.

My black hair is usually styled in what Killian calls a rooster's ass. Don't ask. He's that much of a crazy fucker.

Killian. That's our vocalist. Well, he's the one who does the clean vocals. He is so crazy when it comes to his hair. He dyes it half black and half dark purple. Like stright down the middle. And then he has it spiked. He's so over protective. It drives me crazy sometimes but at times I'm glad for it. In case you didn't realize, Killian is my big brother.

Drezden. Well, his real name is Brenden but I've always called him Drezden. And it kinda caught on with the rest of us. He plays lead guitar for us. He's more mature than the rest of us. I honestly have no clue how he puts up with us. He always dyes his hair a blood red and flame orange. And who is it that has to do his hair? That's right. Me.

Snapper. Real name is Kenneth. Killian called him that one day during our last tour and it stuck. Where the hell do we get these nicknames for each other? Anyways, Snapper plays rhythm guitar and he does the screams for us. Well, when we need them. Since he doesn't really like to do the screams much, our songs don't require them. But, when he's in a really good and upbeat mood, he will. His black hair is set in dreads. I don't know why, but, they fit him so damn well.

Brad, or Fudgie as I like to call him. It just kinda stuck. Only I'm allowed to call him Fudgie. Just like only he is allowed to call me Cookie. Anyways, Fudgie plays bass. He likes to have me style his hair in Liberty Spikes. A fucking pain in the ass. So, he isn't allowed to take them out for a long time. As set by me.

Why the hell must we be so crazy? Then again, I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyways, we were performing at a festival as a last tour date before we head back to Long Beach. Which I was not looking forward to.

And we were about to go on.

"Let's go, Cookie!" Fudgie shouted, laughing.

"Alright," I said, laughing as I took my drumsticks from Bleu, my drum tech.

"Have fun, Z!" She shouted after me, a grin on her face.

"I will, Bleu!" I shouted back as I ran up the steps to my drum kit.

"You all ready to get this shit started?" Killian shouted into the mic.

The crowd roared in response, letting us know they were.

"Alright!" Fudgie shouted, laughing. "Lets rock this fucking festival!"

"Scream, shout

Scream, shout,

We are the fallen angels

We are the in between, cast down as sons of war

Struck to the earth like lightning, on this world we're torn

We won't cause the pain, of living out their law

Take joy in who you are, we know our wings are flawed

We're bored to death in heaven

And all alone in hell

We only want to be ourselves

We scream (we scream), we shout (we shout)

We are the fallen angels

We scream (we scream), we shout

Whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh

To those who sing alone, no need to feel the sorrow,

We scream (We scream) we shout whoa,

We are the fallen angels

Follow the mourning star, a light when darkness fell

The passion left unholy, now you find yourself,

We have nowhere to go, no one to wish us well,

A cry to find our home, our stories they will tell

We're bored to death in heaven

And all alone in hell

We only want to be ourselves

We scream (we scream), we shout (we shout)

We are the fallen angels

We scream (we scream)

We shout, whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh,

To those who sing alone, no need to feel the sorrow,

We scream (we scream) we shout whoa,

We are the fallen angels

Scream, shout, we are the fallen angels

Scream, shout, whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh

We scream (we scream), we shout (we shout)

We are the fallen angels

We scream (we scream), we shout, whoa-oh,

whoa-oh-oh-oh

To those who sing alone, no need to feel the sorrow,

We scream (we scream), we shout whoa,

We are the fallen angels

We scream, we shout, we are the fallen angels,

We scream, we shout, whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-oh,

Whoa-oh-oh-oh

We shout whoa, we are the fallen angels."

(An amazing song by Black Veil Brides. Fallen Angels)

The usual to open our set this tour. The crowd loved it. It always got them pumped.

I noticed a figure that looked familiar on side stage, but, I didn't really pay any attention as we continued onto our next song. The Legacy.

The festival was a fucking success! Wahoo!

"Z!" Snapper shouted as he picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.

I sighed. I knew there was no getting him to put me down. So, why bother?

I just rested my chin on a hand, my elbow propped on his spine.

"What's with this?"

Snapper froze at the voice.

"Snapper, put me down or turn around so I can get a good look at who it is," I told him, sighing.

Snapper just dropped me, making me land on my ass.

"Ow!" I hissed, rubbing my ass.

"You okay?" Someone laughed.

I followed the extended hand to see who it was. It was Jimmy "The Rev" Sullivan. My eyes widened. My inspiration for my drumming style.

I hesitantly reached up, taking his hand. He pulled me up to my feet with no problems. Then again, I didn't weigh very much.

"So, what did ya think?" I asked, dusting myself off.

"You were really good," He told us, grinning. "I really like The Legacy."

"Snapper! Z!" Killian shouted from the dressing room. "Get over here!"

"Coming Killian!" I shouted back, dragging Snapper by his ripped up black Jack Daniel's tee.