I promised Live4 and here it is.
“Dude,” Jeff said, as they forced their way through the thickest part of the crowd of fellow concert-goers, “Dude, listen! If she’s dead, I’m giving you so much money.”
“No,” Mark snapped, “If she’s dead, I’m kicking your ass and taking your money because this was your idea you fucking nimrod.”
News had circulated through to their side of Ground Sound. Violence had broken out at the three-way rap battle between horrorcore rapper Slither and his opponents, Dadaist rapper M.C. Shaz and the foul-mouthed Hazardous Matt. Reports they heard over security radios were mixed. Some told of shots fired, others of a riot.
There was one report that seemed consistent: a woman dead or dying.
Mark’s girlfriend had gone to see the battle on Jeff’s recommendation; they prayed it wasn’t her.
In moments, they were at the centre. Jeff and Mark immediately recognized two of the three rappers being led away by several security officers. Hazardous Matt was in a full-body radiation suit, while M.C. Shaz exited the scene in his trademark candy-coloured top hat, white sleeveless shirt and heart-patterned boxer shorts, and with his jeans pulled down around his ankles.
Vans and motorcycles and old BMWs were parked in random locations across the lot. A predominantly male crowd stood around, its numbers murmuring at one another. Yellow police tape lined the area and people were pulled aside for questioning. The distinct smell of fire and kerosene hung in the air.
Jeff shook his head, “Fuck, where do we even begin?”
Hands running through his hair, Mark hissed with panic, unable to take his eyes off of the scene, “Ask questions. Please, please, ask someone something.”
“Right,” Jeff hummed, looking around. He stopped and raised his hand. “You, there! Hey!” he shouted, flagging down a long-haired man who smelled of spices, “What happened at the battle?”
“Okay, so like,” the spaced-out youth began, “Slither totally started eating a guy’s face, right? And then M.C. Shaz turned a gun on the crowd and totally killed everyone?”
Mark blinked out of his trance, “What?”
“And then Dracula showed up and we all had cake,” their informant concluded.
There was silence for a second.
“I’m taking him home,” Jeff declared.
Turning pale, Mark ground his teeth, “NO!”
His friend shrugged, “Come on, he’d be a great conversation piece.”
“Do you like French fries?” asked the youth.
Jeff put a hand to his chest, “I love French fries. Not this guy, though,” he said, indicating towards Mark, “He’s a poser.”
The youth narrowed his eyes, “Fag.”
Mark began to sulk away, “Fuck you.”
“Don’t be such a poser, fag,” Jeff’s new friend mumbled, “Poser-fag. Fag-poser. Fagoser.”
Another young man with chains attached to his pants slumped over to the three of them, “What up, Brett?” he asked the first youth.
“That guy’s being a fagoser,” the one named Brett said, pointing to Mark.
“Oh, right on,” he said.
“NO!” Mark screamed, whirling back and shooting a fierce snarl at them both, “You will not invent a fucking word while my girlfriend lies bleeding to death by a minivan!”
“We don’t even know if she’s dead!” Jeff shouted back, “Just calm down and let’s –!”
Mark grabbed Jeff’s collar and yanked the squirming man close to his face, “Fuck you! Fuck you! I ought to leave you out here to starve! I’ll –”
Mark released his friend and turned left. He bit his lip and moaned. Slender and flushed, Haruka stood next to the largest policeman either he or Jeff had ever seen, a titantic cross between Ving Rhames and a Buick.
Mark rushed the girl and held her in his arms. He choked. Giving little squeaks of confusion, Haruka patted her lover on the shoulders and cooed in Japanese while Jeff rolled his eyes. Mark pulled back, pressed his forehead against hers and wept with joy as they kissed.
Jeff walked past them both and pocketed his hands, screwing his gaze upwards to the giant officer, “Alright, so while Tristan and Izanami here have their little moment, you mind explaining what actually went down?”
“Slither threw a Molotov cocktail into the crowd during his rebuttal to Hazardous Matt,” the man said, in a grim bass voice, “But we’ve got him detained; again. His parole officer’s going to have a fit.”
“Was anyone hurt?” he wondered, casting a glance back at the lovers.
The policeman shook his head, “People are shaken but not stirred, if you get my drift. Some kid’s shoe caught fire from the blaze, but she’ll be fine.”
Jeff’s nose scrunched, “Christ, the radio chatter we heard made it sound like a warzone. What was all that about shots fired and a woman dying?”
The officer shrugged, “Broken telephone? It’s hard to get a reliable witness out of this crowd.”
Jeff glanced over his shoulder to the long-haired youth from before, who now writhed on the ground scratching himself as his associate laughed, “Tell me about it.”
The officer tipped his hat and left. Turning on a heel, Jeff put his hands behind his head and strode for the lovers. “You guys okay now?”
“Fuck off, Jeff,” whimpered Mark, lifting his head. Haruka looked his way at the same time.
“What?” he called out, offended. “Fuck your teeth, I’m your friend. I just –” He paused and froze, his eyes growing wide.
“Jeffu,” Haruka said, sniffing at him, “What’s up?”
There was reverence in his voice, “I hear the opening bass riff to ‘We’re Going To Get Several Bitches In This Motherfucker.’”
Mark dried his eyes and stared at him, “How?”“I just know, okay?!” Jeff snapped, shaking his head, “Enough! I must go! The Further Colonels need me!”
Without another word, he was gone. They stood and watched their friend rush into the distance. A drum beat pounded against the air and shook the earth.
Yay, Haruka's not dead! Now to retire these characters until I can think of something else to use them in. Perhaps I'll make an epilogue to Live later.
Stay tuned, ladies and germs, because next week we've got our first Halloween special and an announcement!
See you next time,
EDIT: May 23, 2012. EditsstidE