Thread: Faithless

"Got any November Rain on that Nano of yours John?" Robbie asked him, as he took a swig from the bottle. He looked up at Curt, who was using the sunroof of the limo. He could smell the smoke from where he was sitting... How long had it been since he had given up? 2-3 years? No, it had to be at least four surely. That smell almost had him dry-retching and gasping for air, but he soon controlled himself, and kept right on swigging.

"Come on, 'urry up. I haven't 'ad me turn yet laddie..." he said in the thickest Cockney accent he could muster. "Jesus, what's he doing? spying on the rich and famous? If he is, it's my turn next. The only famous person I saw was Ozzy Osbourne, way back..."

Robbie decided to practice air guitar to keep himself from being bored and he'd kicked himself for not asking John if he had any AC/DC on his iPod. He leant over to John, and gave him a continuous poke in the shoulder.

"Got any AC/DC tunes on there John? Angus Young's kinda my music idol you know..."

Séamus's foot was tapping constantly and he knew it was annoying his interviewer but he couldn't help it. He could drum perfectly, without nerves, on stage but anything else he just couldn't stop tapping.

"Mr Leroy, tell me, why is it that you want to join this band?"

Mr leroy, that made him feel important! No... musty not get distracted, think you want to be in this band! He paused for a second, searching for the best possible answer.

"I am missing being in a band so I began to search for one that I thought was most suitable in. This band looks like it will be well organised and that is the atmosphere, I... er... think I work best in."

Beads of sweat ran down his forehead as she asked him more questions and jotted answers on her didgital noteboard.

"Can you please tell me why you left your last band?"

This one was easy and hopefully would score him some points! "I felt like I was heading in a different direction than the other band members and we were no longer having fun or making good music."

"thank, you that's all we need to know. Waiting outside is a Limo. You will get in to that Limo with the rest of the band and be taken to the labels manor."

Séamus exhaled loudly, he'd made it! he felt like the wieght of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He practically ran to the Limo outside. Taking a deep breath he entered, gracefully.

"Hi, i'm Séamus, the drummer." He noticed one of the band members hair and grinned, he couldn't help it!

YouTube - Slipknot- Three Nil Here's the song.

Got any AC/DC tunes on there John? Angus Young's kinda my music idol you know...

John looked out the window and saw the upper class neibourhood,
"Hold that though mate..." he walked past Curt's lower body and tapped on the glass between him and Steve. Steve rolled down the window,
"What is it John?" he asked polietly as he continued to drive along. John smiled,
"Upper class neibourhood... rock star instinct playing up..." he selected a track on his Ipod and connected it to the car's speakers, turning them up to the maximum. He smiled at Robbie and Zandra, "Upper class neibourhood + Slipknot from car speakers... not much else to say. Hit it Steve!"
John stood up and managed to stand next to Curt with his top half out the sun roof. He yelled out as loud as he could when the song started,
"One! Two! Three! Nil!" he screamed the words and couldn't help but go slightly crazy. He didn't even notice that the limo had stopped and picked up another band member. He was too busy headbanging and screaming the lyrics out as loud as possible, leaving dogs barking and old people shouting.

Nathan sighed. A whole hour he’d been waiting, his ass planted to this uncomfortable chair and the air around him poisoned with cigarette smoke. Was it really worth it? The phone call had implied that this would be a new project, something that would spice up his lyrics and really get him adjusted to the different types of music. To be honest, Nathan wasn’t the least worried about how much money he got, he was all for the experience.

He was interrupted from his thoughts by a somewhat loud appearance as a woman came in; shouting at who-ever was behind the door. Nathan stood up as a sign of respect, and as the woman turned she had an angered look on her face, yet quickly re-shaping it to a smile as she noticed Nathan standing there.

‘Mr. Quinn.’ The woman greeted him, shaking Nathans hand with a firm grip. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

Oh yeah, like that’s a meaningful explanation.

‘Oh, it’s fine.’ Nathan lied, sitting down again as the woman did so, who he could now identity as Gladice. ‘You called me here because?’

‘I have a job for you Mr. Quinn.’ She replied.

‘I see that Ma’am, but what exactly is that?’

‘Song-Writing, but for a number of different genre’s and personalities, and Money is no option as I will not be taking no for an answer.’

Jesus! She’s a fierce one.

‘I see. But you see Ma’am I’m not here for the money, I’m…’

‘Experience. Oh, I guarantee you that. But only if you can guarantee me you’ll do it?’

Nathan nodded and then had a moment of thought.

Different Genres. Different people. Maybe I could get something out of this. And money is NO OPTION! Well, experience is one thing but when someone can guarantee you all the money in the world, it doesn’t half hook you…

Nathan smiled, put his hand out towards Gladice and stood up.

‘I think you’ve got yourself Deal.’

As the limo drove past the electric gates and past the ten foot, brick walls, Gladice had her first glance of the band. Two men standing with the upper half of their bodies sticking out of the sun roof. One smoking while the other screamed along to some Slipknot song. She smiled as she recognised Curt and John from the Kerrang! poll. What had she expected? Curt was a Boston punk while John had once started a bar fight on his own with five drunken fans. And won.
She watched as the limp parked in front of the huge double doors behind her. She was standing on top of the white marble stairs that lead up to the oak doors. The enitre manor was made of white marble. The place shined with pride, the glass shing well with the pure marble. The manor was huge, four floors tall and it went back hundreds of metres until it ended at the back patio, pool and tennis court. The manor had been made by some billionaire who had lost all his money to the label a few years back. The label had the best law team in the world.
The downside of the manor was the fortifications. The manor and its grounds were enclosed by the huge, ten foot walls and the one gate was spiked and had its own guard house and cranky guards armed with stun guns. The billionaire had been very paranoid.
Gladice stood at the top of the stairs, her arms outstretched as the limo doors opened automatically,
"Welcome everyone. You are the band of the new year. Faithless. And this..." she motioned towards the manor, "Is your whole world now. You will eat, sleep, record and hold interviews here. In short... you do not leave here for anything but official business. This is your life now."

"Bloody 'ell, this place is the tits!" Curt explained as he clamored the rest of his body through the sunroof and on top of the limo. He stood tall looking in all directions, then he hopped down and bolted towards the house. He flung himself up the clean marble staircase. Chucking his smoke as he ran passed Gladice, he disappeared in to the mansion.

"Welcome everyone. You are the band of the new year. Faithless. And this..." she motioned towards the manor, "Is your whole world now. You will eat, sleep, record and hold interviews here. In short... you do not leave here for anything but official business. This is your life now."

"Cor, this place is nicer than me ma's place in Soho." Robbie exclaimed, as he climbed out of the limo. He stood and looked around for a bit, then walked up to Gladice. "Ello love, where you from? I'm McIvor, Robbie McIvor, and lead guitar. I'll hope to catch you 'round here soon darling..." Robbie took it all in, and ran into the main hall and then he followed closely behind Curt and he quickly dissapeared into the depths of the mansion.

John shook his head as he took his Ipod from Steve. It was nice but he wasn't into the whole, this your whole world now. You will eat, sleep, record and hold interviews here. In short... you do not leave here for anything but official business. This is your life now.
He shook his head again and fell back into the limo,
"Well... looks like we're here..." he sighed and opened the door, walking out with dignity unlike Curt. He walked up the stairs slowly and was about to walk past the woman when she reached out and touched his shoulder,
"Mr Baptise... your ex girlfriend sent this in the mail." she handed him a DVD without a case picture. John frowned as he walked into the mansion,
"Yeah. Thanks."

((hope this is okay Nefi))

Zandra crawled out of the limo slowly after John, walking slowly towards the house, she'd never seen anything this big before. She smiled weakly walking inside past John who stoped on the stairs talking to the girl. She walked upstairs, and could here curt shouting about stuff. She ignored it and walked down the hall, checking out the rooms. She smiled slightly as she noticed each door had a name on it. Finding the one with her name she pushed it open and walked inside, it was flash, she'd give it that but it lacked her home touch, without the clatter of different instruments, her amps and perticually her double bass it just wasn't home. She fell back on the bed singing softly, closing her eyes and convincing herself that it wouldn't be as bad as she thought.

(That's perfect)

John walked down the cold and empty corridor before finding his own room. He walked in and saw the 32" plasma screen and the huge bed. He looked in the ensuite and nodded, What do you expect when you sell your soul?
He sat down on the edge of the bed and put the DVD into the TV. He smiled when Sweet Child o mine started playing. The smile disappeared very quickly. He saw his ex girlfriend and his former bass player sitting naked together on his bed back at the flat. His girlfriend had a swollen stomach from their baby but the sneer was anything but motherly,
"Hey John. Yeah thats right, I'm fucking Josh now. He knows how to take care of a woman." they kissed on screen and John felt something inside him die, "But it ain't over. I'm taking you to court and I will not rest until I get everything."
She cackled before slowly going down on one of his best friends. He was overcome by rage and he flung the TV remote at the screen, causing it to smash and spark. He fell to his knees and sobbed. He'd never really thought that their tenth break up in the past month would be for real. They never really broke up. He sobbed harder but reached for his mobile. He hit her number. She picked up and he was down her throat before she could breath,
"You can have everything! You can have the flat, you can have all the money and material possessions that I own at this point in time." he paused but she didn't say anything. He sighed, "I just want the baby."
"You can have it. Like I'd want a little ankle bitter anyway..." she snarled with victory. John shook his head in disgust and hung up before returning to the sobbing.

Within minutes curt had found his room, circled it twice, done a flip on the bed and ripped off to explore the house. He passed through room after room, they seemed to be endless. He eventually found exactly what he needed: fully stocked bar. Grabbing the biggest bottle of whiskey he could find he pounded back a couple deep gulps. He then was off at a run again bottle in hand, "Let fockin' celebrate!" He screamed while removing his shirt. He stopped, realizing he had no clue where he or anyone else was he took a long drag from the bottle. Remembering the bedrooms were on the top floor and thats probably where everyone was he sprinted up the first staircase he could find, tripping on the top stair.

Ah fock me Curt thought as he flew through the air. He landed hard on his face but managed to keep the bottle upright. He rolled onto his back and took another long drag of the bottle. Sitting on the top step curt closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then lit a cigarette. As he sat smoking in silence he heard a couple strange sounds, first a smash, then some muffled yelling and sobbing. Curt stood up and walking slowly down the hallway he followed the noise.

He paused outside of John's room where the noise was apparently coming from. Down the hall he heard the merrymaking of others and with a shrug he left the door of John's room closed and continued walking, now away from the sobbing. Son off bitch he though, and he turned around. Curt knocked softly on John's door then let himself in, he saw the flatscreen with the remote half buried in it and John collapsed on the floor.

"Fockin 'ell brother, up ye get," Curt spoke softly as he picked John up off the floor and gave him a rather forceful hug. After slappingg his back a couple times Curt sat John down on the bed, grabbed a chair and sat in front of him.

"So what troubling ye my brother?" he questioned offering the bottle.

So what troubling ye my brother?

John shook his head and took the bottle, downing half of what remained. He set it down on the floor,
"I just got a DVD from my ex... she's pregnent with my baby but it didn't stop her from fuckin my bass player." he took another swig, "She wants everything. All my money from the tours of Sweeden... the flat.... everything."
He sighed and gave the bottle back,
"I agreed so long as she gave me the baby." he shook his head, "But she'll be phoning any minute now to name her price for my unborn child... how motherly eh?"
He chuckled and took another deep swig from the bottle. He held it above his mouth but found no more. He put it back down,
"Sorry about the whiskey mate but it takes the pain away ya know?"

"Sorry about the whiskey mate but it takes the pain away ya know?"
"Aye, why do-ye think I drink so much of it?" Curt responded with unusual sentiment, looking down at John he continued,"Fockin' women, but at least you can get yer child, thats the most important thin in this world, family. It doesn't matter what she wants, just get yer kid and you can start all over. We've got it made in this house, we can make enough money that what you have now won't matter. I'm not tryin' to tell ye what to say or do, but I'm just sayin' keep your kid in mind, money comes and goes."
Curt then abruptly picked up the empty bottle and stood up, "Now call yer lawyer, and if you ain't got one, get one...maybe you can get this sorted out without losing much."
Curt turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him. He leaned against the opposite wall and lit a smoke.

Now call yer lawyer, and if you ain't got one, get one...maybe you can get this sorted out without losing much.

John stood up with his mobile and called his lawyer, telling her to fight tooth and nail for everything concerning the baby at any cost. He hung up and looked around him. He shook his head and opened the door to see Curt smoking on the opposite wall. He put his hand on the guitarist's shoulder,
"Thanks man." he said simply before walking around towards the limo to get his guitars.

"Thanks man."
Curt watched John walk away in silence, then turned in the opposite direction and headed back down the stairs he had come up. Gotta find something fun...Walking around the house in a half-drunkin' stupor he realized they must have a studio in the place. He stumbled from room to room until he found the grand entrance yet again. If he wasn't so tipsy he might have felt out of place surrounded by such luxury, but he didn't really car at this point.

It appeared John was outside unloading the last of his stuff, but the driver had already put Curt's stuff on the foyers marble floor. Grabbing up the electric case he stalked the house, searching and searching, he went down a flight into the basement and after walking though an almost full sized theater he found his destination, the studio.

Noticing an intercom on the way in he pressed down the button, "Ey, ya goofs, I found soemthin' greaaat, basement floor!"

After notifying the others, and not really caring if they came or not, he fired up the systems. The he strolled into the soundproof room, plugged in his black Gibson Les Paul and started to shred.