NEWS OF THE WORLD:PART ONE

From Our Eyes (The Studio Pt. 2)

Ah yes, we finally get to see apart of our story from the rest of the band's perspectives! Hope you enjoy this filler/chapter! -QG1977

*Brian's POV*
September 6 1977
To start off, I can tell one thing the entire studio felt the morning after Freddie's party-tired as hell. Everyone was hungover as shit, and felt like shit. Well, everyone except the birthday boy himself-Mr. Frederick Mercury. Boy, was he energetic as fuck (even though he drank more than the three of us combined). Still, to this very day, I have no idea how (no matter what bullshit he told us) he didn't show any signs of being hungover, or anything related to that.

Either way, Freddie's good mood wasn't going to be so great as soon as he walked into the studio that morning. Why, you might ask? All because of a certain punk rocker and then some.

Let's take a look back...shall we?

*****************************************
Wessex Studios 8:50 AM
"WHY ON EARTH DID HE HAVE TO WRITE SUCH A SLOW SONG? THERE'S NO BEAT LIKE USUAL AND IT'S TOO JAZZY!" Roger fumed, throwing his arms up in the air with frustration.

I tried so hard not to laugh at how childish he was acting, but I failed....miserably.

Unfortunately for me, Roger noticed. "What's so funny, huh Bri? This isn't a laughing matter ya know!"

I couldn't stop laughing though. "S-S-Sorry Rog" I snickered "But you're making a bigger deal about this than it really is."

Roger gave me a stare that was cold as ice. "Oh, so the fact that Fred wants a slow fucking jazz song on a rock album, is not a big deal?"

"What's not a big deal?" Freddie asked (finally) entering the studio. Surprisingly, he didn't look hungover, not one bit.

Roger froze for a moment and I (still) tried not to laugh. "I..um.." he stuttered, turning away from Freddie. "Your song that you wrote not that long ago" he paused "It's too slow. Too jazzy, not suitable for a rock album."

Freddie clenched his fists and crossed his arms. He had a mean look in his eyes.

All hell's gonna break loose on ya Rog.....

*Roger's POV*
9:00 AM
"What do you mean it's not suitable for a rock album?" Freddie snapped from across the room. "Too jazzy, too slow my ass!"

My back was still towards Freddie and I still couldn't move. Brian? John? Anybody gonna help me out here?

"Fred, I think what he's trying to say is that song you wrote, isn't something that is usually put on a rock album" John (thankfully) chimed in, trying to help my case. Unfortunately, this did me no good because Freddie was now pissed.

You tried John, you tried.

"My song isn't something for a rock album?" Freddie shrieked "My song isn't that slow, it's more upbeat! Unlike Brian's that's about his fucking cat!"

Brian's head fell. Poor Bri.

"Sorry about your cat Bri" Freddie turned to him, "But either way we've had shit that's much more different than this song!"

Everyone in the room was silent-dead silent. Presumably out of shock or fear. I finally had the guts to speak. "Fred, I get that you're frustrated about this song not being on the album" I paused "But I also get the point you're trying to prove. Yeah, we've had songs like that before on our albums, but they all feature ALL of us. Guitar, bass, drums-not just vocals and a piano."

Freddie pursed his lips for a moment, head hanging down. "Okay, but I still don't understand what's wrong with my song."

We all glared at him. "Fred, you only want the vocals and piano. If this song is called "My Melancholy Blues" I finally peeped "then it should have some sort of blues-type rhythm to it. You know, drums, bass, maybe a little bit of snapping and possibly some guitar to fit our style."

"I suppose you have a point" Freddie sighed "I guess we could add some guitar and drums along wi-"

Freddie was interrupted by a knock on the studio door. Actually, let me rephrase that, because it was more than a knock. Really, it wasn't even one. It was a fist(or two) banging on the door. Without giving us time to answer(or even a warning plus a chance to acknowledge what just happened), the door swung open and then came in Sid Vicious. But he wasn't alone this time. No, he had others. Friends, bandmates, you name it-he had backup this time.

I gulped-loudly. We are so fucked.

*John's POV*
9:15 AM
You know the story of how Freddie met Sid Vicious? How Sid full on insulted Freddie to his face, asking him if he had "brought ballet to the masses"? And how Freddie grabbed him by the neck, threw him out, but not without telling him "we're trying our best"? Oh, and of course and most importantly, calling him Simon Ferocious. Yeah, well it looked as though Sid didn't forgive Freddie or for any of us for that matter. Then again, what was there to be forgiven from our end?

"Well, well, well" Sid said heading our way "if it isn't Freddie Mercury-the man who's still bringing ballet to the fucking masses!"

"Why hello to you too Mr. Ferocious" Freddie huffed out "what brings you into our studio this fine morning?"

Sid gave him a nasty glare. "Well" he twitched "if you must know, I was just stopping over here to see what's happening."

At that very moment, everyone in that studio tried to hold in their laughter, but failed miserably.

Sid immediately noticed. "What's so funny, eh?"

"Sid" I laughed "that's probably the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say." Boy I'm gonna regret saying that.

Sid gave a little devilish laugh. "I suppose you might be right. But....you never know." He started to head towards the mixing desk where Freddie was; back now facing towards Sid and the rest of the studio. "Whatcha workin' on Fred?"

"Well if you must know Sid" Freddie replied "I'm trying to work on our upcoming album, along with the rest of the band. Also," he paused "you reek of vodka, beer, along with a pack of cigarettes."

I don't and will never regret bursting into laughter there. Freddie wasn't lying and everyone could, and would agree with him.

Unfortunately, things south from there. And I mean very south. Not just for Freddie, but for all of us in that room. Sid was filled with rage-drunk and stupid rage. Without warning, Sid had one hand grasping the back of Freddie's neck, and the other signaling his so-called "backup".

Roger finally got up from his seat and tried pushing them away from Freddie. He had to get all of us (well, except Freddie) to help him out. Unfortunately, we weren't strong enough and all hell broke loose.

Damn these skinny arms, damn you guys for being so skinny.

Before we knew it, the entire studio was fighting each other. In the end, everyone was pretty much fucked up.

Roger got punched right in the eye and nose, while Brian got smacked across the face so hard that he was almost knocked out, and was pretty close to looking like a tomato (yeah, he was smacked that hard). I meanwhile, got smacked across the face as well (both sides to be specific) and punched in the cheek.

Freddie was the worst out of the four of us. While trying to fight off Sid (to which he punched Sid so hard that he probably lost a tooth or more. But not without telling him-"that's what happens when you're a boxer in boarding school."), Sid finally had enough and punched Freddie, giving him a black eye and a swollen cheek. That's not all though. Sid hit Freddie on the mouth, causing blood, and kicking him (yes kicking him) in the stomach, causing him to collapse on the floor. I you're wondering how he didn't die (or loose anything) from all this, you aren't alone.

Luckily, help had finally arrived, along with Mary (plus our wives/girlfriends), but not Katherine. Why isn't she here? Had she been called? Mary was freaking out as soon as she saw Freddie and ran over to him. "Dear god what happened to you?"

Freddie couldn't really get any words out of his mouth. Poor guy was on the verge of passing out and from the sound of it, he was pretty much out of breath. Mary got up from Freddie's side and made her way towards the phone. "I'm calling Katherine" she stammered "now."

"Don't! I don't....want her....seeing me....like this" Freddie managed to get out.

"She deserves to know what the hell happened to you!" Mary screamed and started dialing the phone.

"NO DON-"