Chapitre 2: PROLOGUE
"Oi Danny, pass me the pot, mate!" a British-accented voice yelled from the back of the tour bus, the smell of marijuana hanging heavy in the air.
Danny Givens, a blonde, wiry man with a mischievous grin, held up the joint, taunting Chance Sawyer, the dark-haired giant with a bushy beard. "No can do, Nicky's already called dibs on this one, go get your own, son!" he yelled back, his eyes glinting with amusement.
Chance, his face set in a determined scowl, snatched the pot from Danny's hand, took a long drag, and then handed it over to Nicky, who watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. Nicky, Danny's twin brother, was the yin to Danny's yang - quiet and broody where Danny was rowdy and calm.
"The fuck, Chance! Next time, you try that shite, we're going to have a problem, son, alright?" Danny threatened, his finger jabbing towards Chance like a sword.
Cordelia Winston, the lead singer of the Misfits, poked her head into the backseat, her southern accent a gentle contrast to the British English the men had been speaking. "What's up, boys? Why y'all yellin'?" she asked, her eyes scanning the scene before her.
Chance, his speech slurred from the weed and alcohol, lied through his teeth, "Danny was smoking pot, then I asked him to share with Nicky and me, but then Danny's exact words were, 'Oi, never share my weed with losers'!
"Bloody hell! Cordy, he stole my weed, and when I asked him nicely, he refused and threatened to beat the crap out of me!" Danny protested, pouting like a child. "And then, he handed it over to Nicky, who's still got it!"
Cordy sighed, her eyes rolling heavenward as she muttered curses under her breath. These men were still stuck in their teenage antics, fighting over drugs like children squabbling over candy. She, the lead singer of the Misfits, was the only adult in the room, despite being the youngest at twenty-nine and the shortest at six feet tall.
She had met these men when she was fifteen, fresh off the boat from Tennessee, and they had taken her under their wing. Mitchell Giovanni, the red-haired guitarist, who was always high as a kite. Daniel and Nicholas Givens, the brothers from Devon, were her rhythm section, with Danny on drums and Nicky on backup vocals and guitar. Chance Sawyer, the heavyset bassist from Manchester, completed the band. Together, they were the Misfits, one of the most popular rock bands in the world.
As they headed to Miami for their final tour performance, Cordy couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. These men were her family, her only family, and she loved them despite their childish ways. But sometimes, she wished they would grow up and act their age. She had grown up in an orphanage, labeled as autistic, and music was her only escape. The Misfits were her everything, and she would do anything to keep them together.
As the bus hurtled down the highway, Cordy strummed a new song on her acoustic guitar, her voice soaring like a bird in flight.
Oh, I've got a happy home, with a family that's true
But sometimes, in the quiet nights, I feel a lonesome heart, too
I've got brothers to hold me tight, but nobody to hold me close
In this house full of laughter, I'm still searchin' for a love to call my own
We'll ride the range together, under the wide open sky
Share stories 'round the campfire, 'til the stars come shinin' high
But when the sun dips below, and the night gets dark and still
I'll slip away, to my own room, with a heart that's full of chill
Oh, I've got a happy home, with a family that's true
But sometimes, in the quiet nights, I feel a lonesome heart, too
I've got brothers to hold me tight, but nobody to hold me close
In this house full of laughter, I'm still searching for a love to call my own
Maybe someday, I'll find my way, to a love that's all my own
And this lonesome heart, will finally find its way back home
But 'til then, I'll hold on tight, to this family of mine
And hope that love will find me, in this happy home of mine
Oh, I've got a happy home, with a family that's true
But sometimes, in the quiet nights, I feel a lonesome heart, too
I've got brothers to hold me tight, but nobody to hold me close
In this house full of laughter, I'm still searching for a love to call my own.
"Damn, Bella, this is tight, Cords, the new song, eh?" Mitch asked, his eyes wide with excitement, as he leaned in to listen.
"Yeah, bro, I've got five more where that came from, and you're all welcome to thank me later," Cordy replied, her voice rising above the din of the bus. "But, Mitch, what the hell are you doin'? You're supposed to be drivin', not loungin' around like a stoner! Who's drivin' this bus, anyway?"
Mitch's response was laced with stupidity. "Fuck, Bella, no one's driving! The bus is moving on its own, isn't that awesome?"
Cordy's eyes widened in horror as she felt the bus hit something, veering off course and knocking everything in its path to the ground. "Holy shit!" she yelled, her heart racing with fear.
Scrambling to the front seat, Cordy seized the steering wheel and turned it, but the brakes refused to work. The bus careened out of control, heading straight for disaster. "Shit, shit, holy fuckin' shit!" she cursed, her voice echoing through the bus as she realized they were in a desperate situation, her mind raced with thoughts of death and destruction.
In the end, it was not the music that saved them but Cordy's quick thinking and sharp reflexes. She veered the bus to the right, avoiding the rock, but the vehicle still crashed, breaking into two, the front rolling off the cliff, with Cordy still in the front seat and the others at the other side. She screamed as she fell to her death, the explosion of the bus echoing through the valley below.
***
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
ALEXEIMONTGOMERY
ALEXEIMONTGOMERY Thanks for reading Castiel's Requiem.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone