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*Prolouge*
Justin Timberlake was dead. Not just a notion, but he was a scrambled egg spilled on the kitchen floor. The hard ground pressed against his side, his head pounding from some foreign liquor, the harsh morning sun reflecting in from the porch. The smell of sweat and human waste clung to him, the after effects of a long night spent away from home. He turned slowly to his back, which sent a shock of pain ripping through him until his stomach exploded. What the hell did he eat? Finally, he peeled open his eyes, but there was no sun.
The night was alive with the surreal orange glow of ancient tragedy. He lay there, hypnotized by the distant swirling lights in all colors. The yards of twisted metal were slowly closing in from before him, destroying his pristine being. Off in the distance a small fire peeked out from two bombed out cars that kissed like lovers. Almost directly above him was a gleaming box of raw metal, strewn with burnt books, CDs and bits of bus, relics of the life that had been.
~
"All I wanted to do was play my guitar and sing. So take me away, I don't mind. But you'd better promise me, I'll be back in time!" The radio blared as Lance glanced from the shotgun captain seat, with a coy smile playing on his face. Chris stood in front of the sofa where Justin lay, barely keeping his balance, trying to bus surf.
"Why don't you guys go to sleep?" Justin muttered wearily, his eyes threatening to close with each sinking breath.
"Oh come on, it's only-" Chris looked up, past Lance to the dashboard. "2:47."
Suddenly, there was a huge jerk, a sudden crash and Justin fell off the couch. Justin stood up like a shot. The butt end of a tractor trailer was stuck through the windshield like a cartoon. He grabbed his cell phone and stupidly, he took a picture. His mind suddenly shot through the fog of the early morning. 'JC will want to know.' His friend was travelling in New York for some radio interview. It was no surprise his phone was off. Justin left a message. The rest of the band was on the bus. Where were they?
He felt Chris by his side and looked up toward Lance. "Oh shit! The bus is on fire!" He said into his phone, than threw it on the floor. An etheral yellow and red flame lit up the dark bus, and he was drawn toward it as he withdrew. Chris was stepping forward, toward some god forsaken goal and there was Joey, rubbing sleep from his eyes, "What's-"
The rumbling was so terrific that each man spread their weight, like they were caught in an earthquake. Only this one did not calm itself. A heavy explosion, a burst of light, of debris filled the bus and the world went blank.
~
But Justin was here now. He tried to prop himself up to get a better look around, but found he had no strength. "Whoa, careful there," a strange voice, secure and forceful, came from somewhere out of his sight. "You're hurt."
Justin become so dizzy that he regurgitated his supper.
With this, he got a look beside him. A paramedic was working on Joey, poking and turning. Justin turned away, placing a hand on his own painful stomach. It was wet. He withdrew his hand and even in the dim light he could see his hand dripping with blood. With that, he felt himself fading out fast, a strong voice saying, "You'll be alright. You'll be OK."

when he found out very good can't wait for more.
Please please update soon.
