Category Linkin Park
When This Began...
When this began…
"Five minutes till Show time!"
"Yo Mike, hurry up dawg!"
"Ay, my mic don't work!"
"Haha Mike doesn't work, get it?"
"For real fool, hurry up!"
People were talking; several voices aimed at his direction. Words rebutting against one another, fighting to reach his ears first. Mike heard them, but couldn't comprehend the words coming from his friend's mouths. All he could hear was the ticking time bomb of the clock on the corner and the time guy coming in ever so often.
His palms were starting to get sweaty.
"Fifteen to go."
His sight started getting fuzzy.
"You guys are on next"
His whole world turned black.
A hand grabbed him from his prone position on the couch and shoved him out of the dressing room, into the crowded halls.
Mike looked up to see where he was going. His eyes dizzily trying to focus on one person, before another came zooming past him. The halls were swarming with people rushing about, getting the stage ready for every performance. As soon as they reached the side stage Mike could hear the roar of the crowd. The loud thud of the base, the screaming of guitars, and the audience lapping it up.
All of a sudden he felt extremely nervous.
What if the crowd didn't like him? Sure there were other hip-hop artists on the bill, but he was the lesser known one. He was a new artist and had no idea what mainstream America thought of his music. There had been a lot of hype about him due to the fact that he was a white emcee, well half white anyway, and that he was signed on to Shady Records. His first single had been released, but he still wasn't very aware on how the audience accepted it.
Creeping around the side stage he peered out into the crowd, only to be greeted by a massive sea of people screaming and shouting for more.
Stepping back he looked up at the members of D12 who were going to perform with him. Proof was laughing with Bizarre, Kuniva looked pissed, and Swifty was mumbling something to Kon Artist. They didn't look one bit phased.
Of course they're not nervous, they've been doing this for years, Mike thought closing his eyes.
He wanted to be back at Chrome, were he could just perform in front of thirty people. Were he could simply battle, and sling rhymes without hassle. Backs in the streets of South central were it was about the rhymes one spit, not about their image. He wasn't used to the excess and glamour of the music industry. After signing on to Shady Records almost a year ago, he had realized that the rap game on the streets was nothing like the rap game in the biz. It was all about promoting an image that didn't even exist. In his case, he was supposed to be the ghetto white boy from South central that took shit from no one. Instead of the incredibly nice guy who liked painting and writing in his spare time.
More people rushed around backstage as they made the final preparations for the next performance. The band that had been on before quickly made their exit through the side stage laughing happily.
Mike could feel his nerves acting up again. He was about to perform in one of the summers hottest festivals, in front of an immense audience.
He was about to hurl.
He brought his hands up to his mouth trying to push down on the queasy feeling rising through his stomach. He almost jumped when he felt a hand touch his shoulder.
"Hey, how are you holding up?" asked the man that had gotten him his first record deal.
"Not so good," Mike answered honestly.
"It's just like any other performance, you'll be fine," Marshall assured him, giving his arm a squeeze.
"I know…" he said still unsure of himself.
Marshall grabbed both his shoulders and shook him slightly, "Yo, check it," He began starting one of his most infamous rhymes, "his palms are sweaty knees weak arms are heavy, There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti…"
Mike smiled as Marshall transformed himself into Slim Shady, Eminem, his rap personas. He had been a fan of Shady ever since had had come out onto the scene with the Slim Shady LP. He still couldn't believe how lucky he was to be one of his protégés and to top it off, his friend.
"The clocks run out, time's up over – blough!" Mike continued exaggerating the words.
"Snap back to reality," Em cut in.
"Oh there goes gravity" Mike replied back
"Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked He's so mad."
"But he won't give up that easy, no he won't have it…"
They continued finishing each word off seamlessly. Marshall knew when Mike would stop, and Mike knew exactly
when to begin. There was a harmonic balance between them that allowed them to write rhymes together so easily.
"He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him-" Mike finished, more than pumped and ready to go.
The bleached blonde emcee smiled, "See. Nothing to it."
Marshall walked back to where D12 was and got them ready for the show.
Grinning, Mike felt a huge weight lift of his shoulders. He could hear the crowd get even louder, and Mike couldn't wait to get out there and perform.
"Joe! Stop touching my hair!" Chester growled trying to brush the DJ away.
The members of Linkin Park were sitting around in their dressing room waiting to perform. They were all nervous, but Chester was practically bouncing of the walls with all his nervous energy. Joe of course, wasn't helping matters any.
"Your no fun," the Asian DJ muttered before stalking off.
Chester got up from his seat and paced around the room. He was able to walk back and forth three times before Brad bounced into the dressing room excitedly.
"You guys gotta come look at the monitors!" he yelled before running off again. The rest of the band rushed out of their room after him. Brad steered the group into a room full of monitors that showed the action on stage.
"Damn! Look at that crowd!" Was the first thing Joe shouted as the screens showed the massive crowd in the stadium.
"Shit, that's a lot of people…" Dave muttered.
"I know!" Brad exclaimed plopping down on a couch, "This is gonna be so cool!"
"This has to be the biggest fucking crowd we've ever played," Rob breathed sitting down next to Brad, "How the hell can you be so excited?"
Brad shrugged as he continued grinning.
The camera continued swooping across the crowd that seemed to stretch on for miles. On another panel the camera focused on the artist on stage, switching between the six emcees.
Joe crept closer to screen as he watched a spiky haired rapper in particular. "Hey Brad, isn't that Mike?" he asked to the guitarist on the couch.
"Who?" Brad asked as he got up to see what the Asian was talking about.
"Mike Shinoda, remember? He was my roommate in college…"
Brad continued to stare at the screen clueless.
"We saw him perform a couple of times a Chrome, he was the rapper that won all the freestyle battles…"
"Oh I remember him!" Brad finally exclaimed.
Joe simply rolled his eyes and went back to the couch Brad had previously occupied.
"Oh man, I can't believe Mike made it, that's so great," the guitarist exclaimed looking at the monitor.
Chester sat down in front of the screen Brad was watching to see what the hassle was about. "So which one is the one you guys know?" he asked looking at the six emcees.
"He's this one," Brad said pointing to a close up of Mike's face.
Chester stared at him curiously, from the tip of his black spiked hair to the goatee on his chin. The camera panned out, showing Mike from head to toe.
"I can't believe my dawg made it," Joe said from the couch, "Man, as soon as were done performing I'm going to hunt his ass down."
"Hey what happened to him anyways?" Brad asked walking away from the flashing screens.
"I don’t know." Joe stated getting up, "He dropped out after our freshmen year, and I didn't see him again."
They continued to look at all the monitors that flashed the pumped up crowd.
"Hey you guys we better go," Rob stated getting up, "I don't even think we're allowed in here."
"Yea we might as well go, " Dave agreed checking his watch, "We're on in about five."
"Shit, we better go get ready then," Brad stated running out. The rest followed, not noticing that Chester still hadn't moved from his spot. The vocalist was still starring at the screen were Mike along with D12 were performing. It wasn't until they ran off stage that Chester realized he had to leave.
Quickly getting up, he noticed that the rest of the band had already departed without him.
"Damn bastards," he muttered as he ran out towards the backstage area.
He was running so fast that he didn't notice another person running in his direction. They both collided and tumbled on to the ground. Chester landed on his back, while the other person fell on top of him. The blonde was about to give the bitching of a lifetime, but when he opened his eyes he was starring back into brown almond eyes he had just spent half an hour scrutinizing.