` feel the. h e a t,,

[Luke Smith]

Luke's eyes shot open with the ending scenes of the nights dreams - or nightmares. Why the fuck were Lars and Riley plauging his sleep? In such odd fashions. Dr. Ph-Lars... Lars-prah... Ed-Lars... What the fuck was going on? Luke didn't recall drinking or taking a hit of anything - then again, Bryan had been known to lace his cigarettes for shits and giggles. He grumbled, pushing the comforter down off of him, rising from his lying position. He lied to himself everyday, and he knew that. Luke was quite confident that he had everyone fooled. No one knew he still had feelings for her. No one, but himself. Lucas intended on keeping it that way.

The morning started with a cigarette, as it usually did. Hell, after the night he'd just had, he certainly needed one. Why should it matter to him at all? Why was he acting like they had actually fucked? Drawing in lungfulls of nicotene, his system seemed to go back to normal. The state where he was a little less paranoid than usual. He let his brain wake up during the few minutes he enjoyed his marlboro, only beginning to get a grip on the day ahead. It was show day, and he had to be ready for it, just like everyone else. There were plenty of employees that had started the day much earlier - such as techs, nervous musicians, stage crew and others. He rose from the bunk, heading to the front of the bus, sliding into the kitchen booth infront of the laptop. He did such things routinely. Mostly, it was nervous habit. Checking email, the pyro website, and of course, Freddie's blog. He liked to spy on the little bastard, just to make sure he wasn't getting too into digging up dirt.

It didn't seem to be anything out of the norm. Someone slept with someone... Woo hoo - it was the world. There were humans, horny humans, and they would do thing. However, heat didn't rise until he kept reading more in depth. In mild awe, he sat back. He knew that Riley slept around - but why with him? Pulling the laptop shut, Lucas sat there, arms crossed, still puffing on the cigarette that was rapidly disappearing. He pulled the cig from his lips, tossing it into the ashtray. The bands lately seemed to be just full of idiotic teens, but somehow he couldn't quite get over the fact that Lars had done that. Luke tried to make logical sense of it. Lars didn't know he still loved Riley... Did he?

It didn't take dear Luke long to convince himself that Lars did, infact, know that he still had feelings for that bitch and he did it all on purpose! Luke contemplated the murder of the Who Killed Marilyn front man, but it was far too obvious. There wasn't a good way to cover his trail - unless he did and accidental explosion on pupose.. Unfortunately, that would claim far more than Trell himself. However, Luke could make Lars suffer in one way. More fire. More heat. More of a chance for dehydration and heat stroke. A smirk of wrath graced his face momentarily as he played with the thought. Yes. He'd have to conduct a new pyro show for Who Killed Marilyn.

He walked back towards his closet, grabbing clothes and replacing his pajamas with said outfit. No one liked someone tromping around in a grey tshirt and plaid pajama pants. It just looked desperate. After dressing, grooming and slipping shoes on, Luke grabbed a bottle of water and his cigarettes and headed out. The clock was hitting 10 am, and people were busy, going about their jobs. He'd have to be on the sly about the new Pyro show for one of Pyromanias most hyped bands.

Call him vengeful, if you will - but that was simply Luke. Always trying to get ahead of the game, and into the minds of his enemies. So, he set forth to work, coordinating the new sequence into the computer before heading up to the control tower. Well, if that didn't make Lars sweat, then he'd just try, try again.

[elLIE]

Oh shows, they were nice. Lars got to do, and say, pretty much whatever the hell he wanted since he was the front man; and he liked that very very much.

The lights were all dark in the house, and but Lars could see the fans with their phone lights and cam corders. Of course they couldn't see him thanks to opportune lighting. Some little something or another on the megatrons kept them entertained as He made his way to center stage with his guitar. It was almost a sad thing though, that the crowds were so far away and he wasn't permitted to get off the stage to get some one on one due to the fire in the front. You could never have the best of both worlds it seemed. The band had strict, bright green tape on where exactly their limits were to move around in, point why he like club gigs the best... where you could just spit bleed and sweat all over your fans for both him and their little hearts content.

But as the lights went up and Lars's mouth and hands got into the automatic ready to start with the powerful intro all of that was forgotten.

Everything seemed to be running smoothly, all the band members never missing their ques; the fans reacting well and hard. However Lars felt himself jumping at times to unexpected fire blowers. He had done the same the first few shows before he became accustomed to the fire timing and heat. But this time it seemed new... because with enough realization he figured the fire was placed and timed differently, not closer.. and more frequent. Lars wasn't sure what the hell that was about, but the show must go on.

He luckily made it through nearly most of the set, not without feeling as if he'd just dipped into a pool of his own sweat though. His head was throbbing from singing and moving in such heat, and his clothes were beyond drenched.

Lars spoke to the crowd some simple questions causing for woos and squeals. Bantering in some petty small talk about London before adding his own bit of controversial twists on it. He;d had enough of the wooing and introduced the next song as he moved back stage. The said song required only one guitar, and that wasn't his. So with some glee he sauntered towards the back to sling it off his shoulder as the rest of the band went into the intro of chords. He nodded towards the techies as someone promptly handed him a water bottle.

"Someone get those fucker's upstairs to lay off the fucking fire, eh?" He said firmly, crossing his arms around him to take the skin soaked shirt from his body, ignoring the vertigo that hit him once he got out of the scorched environment. Shaking his hair dry he took one more chug from the water bottle before jogging back out to the now wild crowd, bursting into the song with powerful vocals. Fine, shirtless was more pleasing to the fan girls and boys, and much more cool for himself; so what the hell, it was the last song.

By the end of the song Lars was on the ground; spitting a bit from what seemed to be dehydration. Despite his orders the fire had only seemed to get hotter. His head spun around and before he knew it any watery substance he had swallowed before was now all over his hands as he bent over on his hands and knees.

Spitting the rest of it out Lars shuffled around for his microphone, leaning down to retrieve it before muttering some profane goodnight to London, a series of vomiting following not too long after.

After that point, the band watched concerned as Lars crawled some ways towards the back of the stage, escaping the blaze of the finale pyro works. He only watched the wall of flame; the deafening music of the rest of the band becoming faint as his eyes slipped closed.

[Luke Smith]

The show carried on, and as Lars sent his demand up to the control room, it only made Luke take the oppurtunity to make things hotter. A hand covered his mouth, hiding the satisfied smirk that plastered itself on his face. He watched the show from the monitors, leaning back in his chair. Other techs and supervisors were all doing their jobs as stated.

'Uh Luke, the kid's puking... I think maybe you should chill with the fire?' The comment made by the light tech.

The comment was made and disregarded, "Hey, they knew what they were signing up for." It wasn't compassionate or humane at all. Simply monotone and practical. His eyes carried on, watching the monitors and the levels on his computer nearly simutaneously. His chin propped ontop of his knuckles, watching the show take effect and watching Lars grow weaker with the minutes that were passing. He considered for a minute on just how cruel he was being. It didn't matter - this always happened at one pyromania show... granted it was usually in the summer in California or another souther state - but that wasn't the point.

When Lars began to crawl is when Luke had perhaps considered that maybe he'd pushed it too far. Well, that'd teach the little fucker to be a crazy bastard when there's pyro everywhere. With a bit of editing the controls, the fire ceased to a normal standard. Well, normal by Pyromania terms. Luke grabbed his cb radio, "I'm turning down lights, Bryan, check on Lars and give me a report." He received a 10-4 from Bryan, and the lights turned down and the pyro came to a halt.

Bryan responded just seconds later, 'He's passed out but he's not dead.'

Yet. "Alright, I'm getting a medic to come over." Luke summond the medics, before standing and putting the CB in his back pocket before heading down to get backstage. When he arrived to the scene, they had run an IV into Lars' arm.

'Just dehydration, he'll probably be pretty whooped when he wakes,' the medic threw out the information. Bryan however, didn't seem so convinced that it had happened on accident.

Luke caught the glare he was receiving from his younger half brother, "What?" Bryan lifted a brow and shook his head before walking away. Well, Luke knew that left room for interrogation later - but that didn't bother him right now. Luke informed the control room that Who Killed Marilyn was out of the running for this show, and that the next band should start getting their asses ready. The rest of the show went on without anyone passing out and with only minimal dehydration.

As the fans filed out, and night was cooling everything off, Luke stood outside of his bus, simply smoking a cigarette and ejoying the peace of a job well done. Two jobs well done. Revenge, and a decent show. Interrogation came just a few moment later when Bryan joined him, 'So what was that all about?'

"What?"

'Don't what me. You know as well as I do that your easy bake oven was no mistake.'

"Oh, it wasn't an easy bake oven... more of a chamber of merciless heat and flame. But my dear brother, my business is my own."

'So - it was on purpose? You could've killed him, dude.'

"I could have... But I didn't."

'I still don't understand what he did.'

"He was born."

Bryan scoffed, 'Fuck, alright. I get it. You loathe him and you won't tell me why. That's fine... But you know eventually Freddie will find out - and then I will know... So good night.... Are you sure you're not going to tell me?'

"Good night, Bryan!" Luke snapped in a baffled way, and watched as a certain memeber of the stage crew disspeared back inside of the bus.