Hello Angel

Luce Blake, reporter. Moved from New Jersery, the reporter finds herself a job at Kerrang!. Her first interview involves meeting her long lost friends, Frank Iero and Mikey Way, and she's slowly dragged away from her normal day to day life as she rejoins with her two musketeers. Question is, who'll lose their sanity first?


1. 1

It’s something unpredictable but in the end is right.

Right, if anyone ever told you a reporter’s job is easy I want you to bitchslap them in the face and make sure it leaves its mark. I mean honestly, two hours of prep for an interview and I’m still as stressed as I was when I was first told I would be interviewing my first band ever for Kerrang!. And yes, that exclamation mark is supposed to be there. If you haven’t ever read a Kerrang! and live in the wonderful country called England, I suggest you buy one. Nevermind that, right now, I have much bigger problems.

Seriously, I am on the verge of having serious mental breakdowns. I want to go into a corner and cry, but now I have eyeliner on and eyeshadow, I cannot go cry in a corner unless I want to look like I had a huge accident with makeup. Not desirable at all.

Anyway, back to the current situation. Standing in front of a mirror, checking my hair for any static and no, there is none. It just hangs over my eyes and just over my shoulders; black and not shiny at all, so dark it didn’t even shine unless it was damp. My eyes are slightly red, but that’s down to only just putting contacts and having… issues with them. Otherwise the goldish green eyes stare back at me, with really long dark lashes that quite frankly are like that minus mascara or any of that.

And then standing a bit further back, I must say I am rather impressed with myself. Ripped jeans, black t-shirt with a leather jacket and an amethyst necklace to add a bit of colour apart from stonewashed denim. Hey, my fashion sense might be better than I give credit for.

Ha. More like you’re filling yourself with false confidence Luce.

“Hey, you’re Luce right?”

I twist round on my converse, strangely bright with the American flag colours on it in an acid wash. It makes sense to me, and that’s was enough. “Yeah, are you Kaitlynn?” I ask, thinking myself clever for remembering this girl’s name. She scowls at me and oh shit. I have the wrong name?

“Kaylie. Don’t call me by Kaitlynn, makes me sound posh.” She says with a definite yankee accent coming through, and a small smile playing across her soft lips. She looks pretty good actually, with slightly tanned skin but the thing that grabs your attention is this bright fiery red and orange hair, which seems to about the same style as mine, but a lot more spiky and sticking out at some pretty strange angles, but it seems legit.

“Oh, sorry. Erm, yeah. So you’re like my what?” I stutter, mentally cursing every known deity I can think of. Not a very long list. But that seems to amuse her, her smile gets slightly bigger and her bright blue eyes get even brighter. They seem like bloody bright blue headlights.

“I’m like your mentor kid. Had any experience before with interviews?”

I nod and smile, announcing “I’ve some experience from work at the Mirror in England.” She looks at me as if I just spoke Swahili. “Never heard of it, is that big in England? And if you live there, you’re an awful long way from home out here in New York, ain’tcha?”

I nod to both while I get a soft pat on the shoulder “It’s okay. Let me do the talking and I’ll direct some questions to you. Let you get a feel of a proper interview with a proper band first, okay? Remember, you’re expected to feel nervous and jumpy first time round.”

“That sounds great. Shall we?” I suggest, and she nods, pushing me forward slightly into a rather well furnished room. Black leather sofas with some pretty fluffy looking cushions. Wow, I could sleep here right here right now.

And before I got chance to even take more of the room, there’s a shout down the hallway from a rather short looking guy. “Lucia Blake, you never replied to my email!”

I squint, and am soon even more confused. The voice belongs to an actually really short guy with these fiery eyes and a half shaved head, with half blonde and half red. The bright ink stick out against the white shirt he was wearing, and he chews his lip ring as he waited for my answer.

"Who the hell are you?" I ask, tilting my head to the side slightly. The only guy I know who was that short and had those I hadn’t heard since I moved to England, yes, I used to live in Belleville, New Jersey, and guess what? I haven’t got the Jersey mentality: I work, I drink, I stay up all night, I try to meet a guy, it’s all a waste of time.

Though generally, I do believe in the ‘it’s all a waste of time’ bit.

Anyway, returning to the current situation…

“Do you seriously not remember me?” He question, and I shrug. He definitely comes from New Jersey, the accent is impossible to miss. And if you do, I’m assuming you don’t know what a Jersey accent is. No offense.

“Err, no dude. You do look familiar.” I ask, genuinely curious, and hey, curiosity killed the cat, but I’m not a cat, so that counts right? He nods, and then grins “Luce, prom. The third musketeer.”

And then everything made sense in about two seconds. “Went to watch Radiohead instead of coming to prom, and therefore leaving the other two to leave and sneak into the concert. Wow, I can’t remember ever sneaking into another concert, how about you Frankie?”

He smiles, flashing his white teeth. “Nope. Anyway, I can get into whatever concert I want now, VIP. And you didn’t answer my question, why didn’t you reply to my email I sent you like, years ago?”

I sigh, and grab his arm, yanking up his sleeve so I can write my number. And then the tattoos make that kinda difficult, so I yank up the other sleeve, nodding slightly with some satisfaction. “Ring us when you’re free, and we can catch up over coffee and biscuits, my cousin runs this amazing coffee shop.”

“Sounds like a deal. Now, I believe it’s interview time?”

“I do believe it is Frankie. Told you I’d get a job in journalism.”

“Told you one of my bands would make it one day.”

“Frankie, I never doubted that for a second.”

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