Chapter Text
He didn't know how much time he killed that day, but he found himself at the hands of the setting sun to the left of him as he kept walking.
Bruce's hand rested along his side, tainted in the deep red as the ooze had dried up, after shattering the test tube to free Eddie from his imprisonment. He occasionally glanced down at his palm, watching his fingers twitching in sharp pain. He still couldn't believe he did such a thing, along with running off from London to find himself lost in the futuristic city. He had no human interaction—excluding Eddie—almost the entire several weeks he had been there, and he had to commit several crimes just to escape? He almost wanted to hate himself for it.
I'm gonna have to get my hand checked out when I get back home to London. I just about mutilated it! Bruce thought, hissing as the pain struck him once again. He looked ahead of him at the horizon, dreading how long it could take to find a route home.
He'd place his uninjured hand behind him and slowly grabbed the camera attached to his pocket. He still wondered why it was resting within the shadows on the roof, but he was grateful he could get concrete evidence in case someone seemed skeptical for his disappearance. Though, he disregarded such a thing and began looking through some of the pictures he acquired during Eddie's path of devastation, also watching the videos several times as a sense of fondness washed into his body. Watching the world he once despised that vanquished would never be more calming to him. It evidently took its toll, as the vocalist appeared more thinner, dark rings beneath his eyes and his hair still scattered as before. Physically, he felt gross, but he could clean himself up once everything settled for him.
Several thoughts in his mind circulated as he kept walking, pondering each one briefly before shifting to a different thought. One of the things in his mind would be the band. He should've stayed in London, because he wouldn't have ended up here and wouldn't have grown weak. He would be reminded of the weight of heavy guilt among his shoulders, and he couldn't imagine how everyone else felt; a suspicion rose to his mind that Steve may scold him for running off so impulsively, but there wasn't any worth in dwelling or obsessing how Steve could react. If the bassist attempted to force a response from Bruce, he had the images to justify his absence.
At the same time, another thought would be the entity. If Bruce never showed up, Eddie would've never been free from the facility. If he never did any of that, then Ed wouldn't be able to go home, either. As a result, he was torn if he really regretted leaving at all.
One of Bruce's favorite images he had taken would be Eddie within the ring of explosions along the city, as the entity destroyed the facility. The vocalist taking pictures easily slipped his mind, since he was clearly fading in and out of unconsciousness by the time he started. He also had a favorite video along with that, and would undoubtedly be Eddie destroying the largest tower from pure force. Even with it being the most traumatizing part of his entire life, he believed he could learn something from the experience.
Changing his perspective made it so special for him: he began to imagine the city being all of the burdens he carried during his career with the band the first time, falling deeper into a pit of aimlessness and depression. The drones would act like the constant arguments Bruce would have, internally or externally, where he would have to fight back to prevent more problems to arise. Then, the impact: he imagined that as his entire life crumbling around him, where he had to build from the ground up, such as how he did after leaving the band in 1993. He would, finally, categorize the test tube and Eddie: hope for the future, letting go of the burdens he wouldn't pull his grasp off of. Once the city was destroyed, he let go of the possible grudges he refused to let go of, and maybe accepting that everything that happened to him was worth it in the end. Doing that one thing made him appreciate it even more.
Bruce and Steve were on pretty good terms, since his return in 1999 after 6 years of being gone. He kept thinking he'd get thrown into another scuffle with the bassist. Not that he was anxious it'd happen, but still, he did something bold and maybe even frowned upon to the other band members. Maybe they wouldn't be too mad at him?
The sun gleamed along Bruce as he kept watching the videos on the bloodied camera, and the pain in his hand slowly died away. It'd stung for hours.
The tattered man halted in his path as a silhouette of a train station stood ahead of him, only half a kilometer away as alleviated tears welled in his eyes. A way for him to get his life back. He clutched onto the camera and bolted towards the station, ignoring the blood on his face and arm, disregarding how he looked in the slightest. He may have had a cut on his cheek and his hand visibly mutilated, but he had just endured something so many people shouldn't ever experience in their lives. He decided to wait at the station, not concerned about how long a train could take to get there.
Enough time passed for a sliver of light to be visible past the horizon, as a train slowed its velocity down to a halt. Bruce carefully approached the door to find only a few people occupied the cart, and he slid on as he became the sole center of attention.
Bruce raised his uninjured hand to the people staring, sitting down and being far away from everyone. The train cart would have an orange hue as dim lights hung over the passengers, with seats decorated along the wall. The seats were surprisingly comfortable, for him. But at that moment, he just needed to be alone for now.
I forgot nobody has seen me for an entire month…wish they didn't look at me like that, he thought, heaving a sigh. He slumped over and rested his hand onto his cheek, staring at the window outside. He wondered if the train was heading to London, but he couldn't muster the strength to talk to anyone yet.
He noticed a woman with a long, dark coat and short hair gazing at him, so he quietly glanced back. He really did not want to converse with anyone.
"Are you okay?" The woman shyly asked. "You don't look very good. What are you doing all the way out here, without your band?"
"Long story I'd rather not talk about," Bruce mumbled, weariness causing him to shiver. "Plus, it'd make me look delusional to people. It's a lot to take in…"
The woman frowned, placing the book she was originally reading beside her as she worried for Bruce. "Where are you heading to, if you don't mind me asking?"
Bruce knew he should've asked someone where the train was heading to, so he tiredly hummed as he rubbed his head. He brought his attention to her and dropped his uninjured hand to the side of him. "London…is this train passing through there, by chance?"
"It sure is—" She stopped herself as she noticed his hand drenched in blood. Of course, she brought it up. "—oh dear! What's wrong with your hand?"
He went silent, finding himself hesitating to respond to her. Though, he knew how disrespectful it would be not to talk to her, so he shook his head and clasped his bloodied palm under his other hand. "That's the only question I'm comfortable answering, then," he stammered. "I may have broken some glass while I was doing something. It was on purpose, but I needed to help someone I consider close to me…"
"Interesting. I hope you'll recover back to full health. The cut in your hand looks very gruesome and may be prone to getting inflected," She softly sighed, glancing up at Bruce after eyeing his hand. "I'm sorry for prying in. You look like you've been through a lot."
Bruce accepted her apology, disregarding the actual pain he was in. He brushed it off, saying that it's not bothering him much and it may be a few deep cuts, that's all.
She wished him a good evening before returning to her book as Bruce brought his head back to the window. He stared at the darkening sky as city lights gleamed ahead of him. He missed the sight. He longed to see a real city again for weeks. The landscape calmed him, after being somewhat tense on the train. He also let himself rest as the train zipped along the railroad, heading straight for London.
He'd wake up as the train zoomed closer to the London Skyline, standing tall through the light fog in the night. He realized he was a step closer to going back to the studio. Going back to his band. Yes…home…
As soon as the train stopped, Bruce bolted out of the doors without any strain of hesitation. He'd check if the camera was okay—still had some life as the battery drained—before looking up at the city surrounding him, for the first time in a full month. He took in the air, senses reeling as he smiled at the old world he was familiar with. He didn't care if it took him a while to get back to the studio, but he acknowledged the possibility of being found by hundreds of people in a densely populated city, so he kept a low profile.
His strategy to avoid a bombardment of people would be to politely decline any questions given to him, and claimed he would talk about it later. He'd expect people to show up and follow him everywhere we went, but to his surprise people left him alone. It was also the evening, so not many would be out wandering, anyway. He looked different from afar, and he was in attire that he usually never wears. He quietly sped through the streets, hope growing inside as he saw the studio drawing closer.
He wouldn't realize it'd take half an hour to reach it, though.
Bruce stared at the studio in front of him, being reminded of the memories that had come from working on new albums. It hit him so fast, that he found out how much he missed the memories alongside the band.
Right, Bruce…don't scare them. They haven't seen you in a month. It's not 6 years! It'll be fine, surely they didn't think I was dead, Bruce thought, giving a worried sigh as he approached the door, worry still piercing his nerves. He caught the sound of harmonizing guitars vibrating through the wood, and he winced as he turned his injured hand into a fist, carefully pounding on the door.
The next thing he heard was a familiar voice, evidently frustrated as his footsteps stomped towards the opposite side of the wall. The voice muttered, "I swear, if this another dumb prank—" which led Bruce to realize the band may have been having other problems besides his disappearance. The city had found out shortly after the band gave up looking for him, only a week ago, so even the band were burdened with interviewers.
Someone yanked the door open, and Bruce caught the frustrated stare of a man with long, brown curly hair and wearing a frown to startle anyone at the door. However, he paused and stood up as he realized Bruce was in front of him. Steve had been the first to greet him.
"Bruce…you're—"
"What? Thought I was dead, or something along the lines of that?" Bruce remarked, giving a smile towards the bassist as Steve stood there in shock. Bruce kicked one of his heels along the ground as he inched back. "You must've been wondering where—"
"Quick. Get inside," Steve briskly said, pulling him inside as he slammed the door shut. He growled at the door behind Bruce, also shaking his head. "We've had damn interviewers up our asses since the other blokes tried to search for your whereabouts, about a week ago. But…"
The other four heard Steve slam the door, provoking them to defend Steve in case anyone attempted to pry into any more of their business. Yet, they went silent as they noticed the new figure in the room. They saw how rough Bruce appeared, blood and all. They nearly broke down as they realized who that was.
"Hey…guess I wasn't dead after all…" Bruce waved his bloodied hand towards the rest of the band, suddenly being raided by everyone as they yanked him into a long hug. He shoved down the feeling rising to the surface, asking everyone to get off of him for the time being. However, Bruce could feel Janick's tight hold, as he didn't want to let go.
How everyone reacted to Bruce returning, he determined how they felt seeing him finally back home. They desperately missed him and wanted him to be safe and alive, and that just proved it.
"We almost thought you wouldn't come back!" Janick exclaimed, finally letting go of Bruce as the vocalist tapped the guitarist's head with a laugh.
"Oh, how I missed your silliness, Jan," Bruce chuckled, his attention turning to the others.
"We've been worried sick! What in the world even happened?" Adrian frantically asked, proceeding to sit down while glaring at Bruce's drenched hand. Such a graphic scene, he didn't want to think what may have happened to him.
Dave agreed with Adrian, fear glossing over his face as he inspected Bruce's condition. "Yea…it looks like you've been to hell and back."
"You couldn't have been more right, Dave," Bruce sighed, standing in front of the five as the light returned back into his eyes as he still restrained the pain he held onto. "It's a long story. I'm really sorry for running off like I did without telling any of you. It started with a nightmare I had when that weird feeling of doom came up between the six of us, and I obsessed over it and it wouldn't leave me at peace. I should've been honest with you all from the start, but I was so blind to realize what I was doing. I took a train that ended up crashing—hold on. Do you mind telling me what the newspaper and notes are for?"
Bruce paced over to the table, still surrounded by the chairs and couch in the studio. he noticed a note full of Nicko's writing and a note with someone else's writing. Then he observed the newspaper and skimmed through it while retaining the most important details. Nicko explained that there was a train derailment shortly after Bruce left, and the four of them had walked around London, asking people if they saw him around the city. They had went to four places in total, with only three places giving them information that easily tied together without fail. Dave and Jan found out about an abandoned city under threat of absolute destruction after the Cold War. Meanwhile, he and Ade met a couple who speculated how the train derailed and a city up north that is putting their own problems onto others for their benefit. There would also be two abandoned cities rather than one. Then a radio station informed them that one of the cities was bombed.
Bruce slowly glanced at Nicko, terror sparking within his stare. "Nicko. I was on that train. The answers to where I've been were literally given to you, just by trying to find my whereabouts."
Everyone quickly exchanged glances, terrified themselves. Nicko quickly shifted back as a result of what Bruce had admitted. "Blimey, Bruce! We literally thought you died in that train, too! You mean to tell us you saw all of that? We were fearing you died a while ago."
Bruce returned to the newspaper as he acknowledged what Nicko exclaimed to him. "Yeah. Terrible experience—I watched the other city get blown up, and there is so much more to explain. Don't worry, I wasn't in the city that was bombed, but I was in the one next to it and may have got caught in the crossfire. I don't know how I came out without any serious injuries."
Everyone couldn't help but feel absolutely baffled within an empty room of silence. Eventually Adrian noticed the bloody camera on Bruce's pocket, then the dirty white clothes. He had no clue where the vocalist had even got them, since he never wore them before. However, his hand was an eyesore, as he wasn't attempting to cover it from the band.
Steve promptly brought him to the couch, sitting on the opposite side of the table. "You have some explaining to do, Bruce."
Bruce nodded, deciding to bring up Eddie for later. The other band members circled around the vocalist, giving him as much time as needed to figure out how to explain this entire situation coherently.
He started with the nightmare the day before he left. He spared the details as it looked futuristic until it'd be destroyed under a bloody sky and everything went dark. He also recalled he saw something when he fell asleep the second time, but "couldn't remember." He hopped onto a train and would be thrown out of it to find the exact same city that appeared in his nightmare. He mentioned the drones as he would be abducted by them, being held there against his will to watch over a random facility in the city. There were weird, flesh-creatures, rings of test tubes, and the drones had been watching over him the entire time. He was never safe, and they grew hostile towards him as time went on, since he found a test tube he, supposedly, "wasn't supposed to have." He ended up leaving to venture through the streets, finding out the history of how it came to be. Something named "the impact", or so the drones titled it, was going to happen in a week by the time he did so, but the drones kept acting weird from the test tube he held onto. But, the impact was let off early.
Bruce paused while he was explaining, trembling as he rubbed one of his eyes with the side of his hand. He also mentioned he found an axe out on the streets, where the drones tried to take it back and were being apprehensive for Bruce to have it. He continued, mentioning he hid in a building that collapsed right on top of him. He survived with only a few scratches and bruises, and the test tube was unscathed. He mentioned he was able to get back into the facility, also discovering what the test tube really meant. It was important, also keeping him sane the rest of the time he was trapped. He then remembered how he tried to escape, describing the Oracle he had met. She didn't exactly help, but tried to explain things well enough at first. The drones did catch him again, but he persevered and vowed to get the test tube back, and now he was there.
"Did that explain enough, for the most part?" Bruce asked.
Steve pointed at the camera and Bruce's bloodied hand, not entirely satisfied as Bruce left out a few details.
"Right, I was about to get to that…so the test tube I had. I wasn't thinking straight and destroyed it using my hand, and I mean shattered it in my grasp. Needless to say, I won't have to worry about those drones anymore."
Adrian furrowed his brows. "What was the test tube significant for, exactly? That isn't saying much."
Bruce sighed. He'd have to explain that more efficiently for them to understand, so Adrian brought up a good point. "At first I thought it didn't mean anything. When I first found it, it had a strange energy radiating from it and it seemed like someone wanted me to take it, so I held onto it. It had a mysterious glow often, which would brighten and dim, like it was talking to me. But, I found myself talking to it once I found out what it actually meant. Someone had been possessing it, and they were in there for weeks. The drones, as I said, didn't want me to have it. I guess the drones knew my affiliations with it and posed me as a major threat, which was why they were being so hostile towards me and having the vial. Once I broke it, I could finally achieve peace," Bruce said, growing fond of the memory once more when he reminded himself of the destruction surrounding him. He glanced back up at them, curious. "Was that a little more reliable?"
The band were somewhat satisfied by the response, but Dave would pause as a statement from Steve clicked back into his mind, so he informed Bruce.
"…oh. Wasn't coming back? I have to see something real quick," Bruce muttered. He pulled the camera close to him and observed the images he had taken. "Let me just say, he couldn't come back. Since he left, actually. 'Arry, I know you've been worried about him, too."
Bruce heard the familiar cackle in his mind, smirking as it pushed it to share the news with Steve. However, Steve appeared puzzled. "I mean, I thought I heard something a few hours ago, but I ignored it—Bruce. You didn't."
Bruce nodded, only giving a smile towards the bassist. "Eddie has finally come back, 'Arry. He was trapped for months."
Steve sprung from his chair, pacing around the room as he gasped. "How did he—he told me he wasn't, and that was only months ago! Do you at least have evidence to prove it? You must be joking!—"
"Not in the slightest," Bruce replied, placing the camera in the bassist's palm. He allowed Steve and the others to look at all of the pictures and videos he captured during the destruction the entity enacted around him. "I'm glad I had pictures, because otherwise you wouldn't have believed me suddenly saying 'Eddie's back' out of the blue."
Steve muttered under his breath. He wouldn't have believed him. He watched the one video that Bruce really enjoyed, observing the entity erupting out of the cloud of debris and smoke, and he simply appeared stunned.
He wouldn't respond until seconds later, giving it back to him and Bruce shut off the camera. He placed it on the table in case anyone wanted to look through them again. He stared at Bruce. "…I'm sorry I even doubted you…bloody hell. He's—"
"Yeah…he is huge. I couldn't believe my eyes either. To keep it simple, he decided to give the city a visit after being informed about it, being caught by the same drones as I did and was tortured for—I think—a few months to drain his powers and ultimately losing his body. He possessed the test tube I had a hold of after he found out about me, and I wouldn't find out until after the impact. But I can't help but think—why did he even help me in the first place? Couldn't he have been taking advantage of me so he could get out himself? He's known for doing such things to get his way, but he never did. Even when we talked once we got everything sorted out, he didn't try to kill me. It's wild, how we usually fight with each other at any given moment, but we agreed with each other then? I guess those last several months took an evident toll on him. I could even tell," Bruce said. "He's likely going to come back soon. He has some things to sort out back in the city—well, ruins. And when he returns, he'll explain everything more properly."
"Do you know how soon?" Nicko asked, leaning forward as his leg rocked back and forth. "We're gonna need him back before October for the next tour."
Bruce chuckled. "Surely not now! I can't have him running through London with how he's looking, he'd destroy everything within hours!"
Steve smirked, placing his hand into Bruce's hair to ruffle his bangs. "Yeah, because of you," Steve remarked.
"Look, 'Arry, you got your damn man back! You should thank me—" Bruce's laugh broke as he hissed through his teeth, glaring down at his hand. "—sorry. I forgot about my…hand."
Dave would stand in front of Bruce and helped him rise to his feet. "Yeah, Bruce. You can't leave that without getting checked out," the guitarist huffed, his tone streaked with fear. "Come on, Bruce, we're getting you to a hospital."
Bruce seemed apprehensive to go, but would be escorted by Dave towards the door. "I don't really want to! I don't want the public to see me just yet—"
Dave argued that Bruce's safety was more important than being caught in public. If anyone judged him, the guitarist would step in without a problem. Just like that, Dave and Bruce exited the studio, leaving the other four to discuss everything Bruce informed them about. They all heard the sound of a car engine starting up, driving off into the night shortly after.
Adrian stared at his hands, simply laughing as he finally processed the last 15 minutes. "All this time…he wasn't dead," he started, remembering the appearance of the vocalist. "He only had a cut up cheek and a brutalized hand, in a city we theorized he'd be near and didn't die in. He watched a city get bombed and he endured all of it? Not to mention, he was able to bring back the most powerful entity we know and haven't seen in months? How can someone do that!?"
"Well, Bruce will put his mind to anything and everything when he's given the opportunity. It's honestly inspiring to me, even," Janick replied, smiling.
Nicko agreed with them, finally feeling some unity within the band being there. "I couldn't agree more, Jan. It feels like the empty space we once had has been replaced with unity, connection. That's something I missed. I really fuckin' missed it."
"We all did. How about you, Arry?—"
The camera would be missing from the table, and Steve had already exited the room. He slid inside the room he had been working in, observing the dry blood spattered on the camera and gently wiped it down as he returned to his seat. He turned the camera back on, observing the pictures and videos and taking a deep look through them. He received a sense of sorrow as he looked at them again, feeling how lonely Bruce must've felt being in the city, all alone, without the band. He struggled to admit he wasn't upset with Bruce, but he wanted to know where he was heading off to. Yet, that was something the vocalist couldn't exactly control, and Steve almost flushed with guilt thinking that way.
He placed the camera in his lap once he finished looking, staring up at the dark ceiling as thoughts coiled into a winding mess. He started to think: he wanted to hear Eddie's side of the story, what happened to him for him to be so different compared to when he left. He had so many questions he knew wouldn't be answered until he saw Eddie again, and he was unsure when that would be. He wanted to know how he and Bruce were getting along.
But he became enlightened with an idea. Bruce had scrolled through the pictures before the others got a glimpse of them. Perhaps he had deleted some photos or videos to free up space? He would find a space designated for a video that appeared to be much longer than the other videos, a duration of about 20 minutes. He quietly listened to it, noticing how peaceful their conversation was.
No venomous hostility from the entity, no bickering between the two of them. Eddie has never acted like that around Bruce. He almost wondered how Eddie would be so tame at all, because that wasn't like him. However, once the video reached the end, the same rumbling cackle blew through Steve's mind, causing him to stop and put the camera onto the desk.
You didn't get mad at Bruce, did you?
"No, of course not…you really thought I would've?"
The voice in his mind quickly returned, as if he stayed silent to think of how to respond. Well, I simply remembered how you and Bruce would constantly be at each other's throats in the past, especially before Bruce left…you two would leave everyone aggravated because you two couldn't make up, and you were pissed off how he was departing with the band. I'll have you know getting mad would've only made things worse.
Steve furrowed his brows. Still, this wasn't like him. "You never cared before…what happened to you?"
The voice paused once more, humming with a growl. …Bruce has earned a bit more respect from me today.
Respect…from Eddie? The bassist sat there in shock. Steve would conclude that Bruce was right. Everything would take a toll on the entity. "That's good to know, I suppose…we've been wondering, when are you coming back?"
No real response after that. Steve sighed, only knowing it would be eventually. But eventually the entity responded. I'll get my way there, don't you worry.
"But, Ed, you're literally the size of a building and can destroy a city on a whim…Bruce even showed me—"
True. But consider this,
Steve knew what the entity was going to do, with the bassist mumbling he would start hallucinating the undead figure in the coming minutes. He pulled himself out of his chair and walked outside, hearing the voice drawing closer and deepening as he released a low cackle through his teeth. He looked ahead of him, gazing at a silhouette that loomed over the city, hundreds of meters from where Steve stood. A transparent form, glowing as Steve would be the only one to see him.
Steve noticed the city grew quiet, and the lights were more dimmed than illuminating the streets. Upon him would be a giant figure staring down at him, his transparent claws resting on top of a building beside him. A familiar smile and blue flaring eyes staring down at him. Such a sight lit up the city for the bassist.
A beast has his ways.