Chapter Text
It's 2001. Some could call it the worst year in existence for these 4 guys. System Of A Down, a once very very successful band that sold 2 bestselling records, suffered a horrible demise. After the release of their freshly released album Toxicity, they experienced extreme backlash due to their song "Jet Pilot" which they've been accused of terrorism after the tragedy at the world trade center unfolded merely a few days after their album release. They lost their career. Some citizens even resorted to doxxing the members of the band. How they managed to put up with it? They couldn't. Not all battles can be fought. They've resorted to working at the nearby McDonald's a few states away in rural South Carolina. The members lost nearly all of their money dealing with lawsuits. It got so bad they fled California to live in the South, in a rinky dink ranchouse. All four band members now work under Da'quanquan, who offered them jobs in their time of adversity. Serj and John have the opening shifts early in the morning, and they both prepare for another day of labour.....
"I can't believe this is what my life has come to, Serj."
John holds a broom in hand, leaning near the restaurant entrance. His job is to sweep and mop the floors and clean the restaurant before opening.
Serj looks over at John, with a rag in his hand, about to start wiping down the countertops.
"Tell me about it, the world thinks we're terrorists now. What more can we do? The media paints us as these monsters and our own fanbase has turned against us."
Serj starts with the tables in the farthest corner of the place, taking his time with each one. He seemed to be in his own mind recently after everything that transpired the last few days. It was sad almost, considering he used to be lively, but nowadays he didn't have much to say anymore. John was more focused on getting the work he needed to be done, done. Saving every penny and putting it towards the things they needed.
"It can't be all that bad, can it?" John asks.
Serj stops what he's doing, and drops his rag on the table.
"John. We live in the middle of nowhere working in a shitty McDonald's in the south, and we can barely make enough to support ourselves. Get a grip."
John only rolls his eyes, sweeping the same spot over and over.
"It's not that bad.."
"Sweep the fucking floor, John."
Serj was absolutely out of it today. The hard work as definitely gotten to him. The poor dude for sure lost his spark. Maybe it was the stupid hat they had to wear..
"Daron and Shavo are lucky, they work in the evenings.."
John sets his broom aside, sitting down at one of the tables. He rests his chin on his palms, staring out the windows to get a good look at the view, but it being very difficult to do so as the windows definitely needed to be wiped down and sprayed.
"Too bad they burnt the studio down.."
Just as Serj's mood couldn't get any worse, John is always there to ruin the day with his commentary.
Serj's table scrubbing gets progressively more quicker and aggressive with each passing second.
"At least we don't work at the Waffle House Serj.. At least we don't work at the Waffle House..."
The older doesn't respond back, let alone look his direction.
When the two are finished, the sun starts to brighten the sky, shining its rays throughout the building. The past weeks have been dry for them, the occasional customer coming in and ordering a Big Mac and fries then making their leave, or a family of 3 every now and then. It was now their second week on the job, and the both of them growing increasingly and increasingly tired.
Today is that day where Serj has finally had enough of it.
John's head whips around to the sound of Serj knocking one of the chairs over, sending a table crashing down along with it.
Serj throws his hat off his head along with his uniform into a pile on the still unclean tile.
"What are you doing?" John just watches, not bothering to make a move let alone get up from his chair. The older storms out of the restaurant, causing a commotion to the guy sitting down trying to eat his fries in peace.
Serj's only thought is to get away, get away from this stupid day-to-day job he has and to find a moment of tranquility. Find somewhere to go. An escape, if you will. He was letting the wind blow him in any direction, mindlessly moving his legs forward. He didn't care where he went, just as long as it was far far away from wherever "this" was. With the sun rising high in the sky, it's tempurature was steadily growing.
There definitely wasn't much to see out here. They lived in a small town surrounded by miles and miles of field and trees. It almost looked as if a tornado came and sucked the life out of the place. Along with two gas stations, a Holiday Inn, and a building with the words "FIREWORKS" plastered all over it there was absolutely nothing there. Long roads stretched out every direction and with that a grove of trees. Very few cars came by, making the roads walkable. Serj goes straight, walking straight out of the parking lot and down the road, onto the grass. Surrounded by an overgrowth of plants, another run down building horribly painted over he dare not step foot into.
It was depressing, to say the least.
Nothing to see.
Nowhere to go.
Stuck in this endless loop wiping down the damn counters and making his 100th Quarter Pounder with Cheese of the week.
He almost missed the busy streets and the crowding of fans coming up to him asking for his autograph. The loud audience at shows they played. He wanted to scream. Scream so loud to let anyone know of his existence in the empty town he resided. He tried, but nothing came out. His silent cry of help was known to nobody. Maybe to the birds. He kept walking. To find something. Anything. Anything at all. He felt so alone. Something he hasn't felt in a long time. He wanted to write it down. Put his thoughts somewhere. Write a damn book or something.
The farther he walked the hotter it got. What a day to pick out a black shirt to fucking wear. He was starting to sweat through it, but nonetheless kept walking anyway. Any logical person would've turned around and went straight back to where they came from, but he didn't slow his pace at all. He started walking faster, actually, only stopping to watch a truck pass by, watching it's tires roll across the asphalt, hauling the body of the truck along with it. It was going a little too fast, but he didn't move from his place on the side of the road. It wasn't until it started swerving, accelerating quicker and quicker off the road and into the field beside it.
It ran right into the tree about 50 feet across from where Serj was standing, immediately catching on fire, and bursting into flames.
There was no doubt the person driving that truck was dead.
If Serj had walked any further he would've been dead too.
He only watched. Watched the flames spread to the nearby trees, bringing more fire with it. It was mesmerizing in a sense to him, how life could be easily snatched away from you without further notice. The person driving was probably drunk, or stupid... Suicidal maybe. The freak accident seemed like a message to him, maybe a warning. He couldn't take his eyes off it. It was hypnotic. The way the fire glew bright, the smoke suffocating the shrubs and branches making the birds evacuate from their homes. They went high up in the sky, far far away to where he couldn't see. His eyes followed them and his legs walked after it. His heart ached to figure out this riddle. This mystery. Their destiny. The birds led Serj to a forest of more greenery. Yards and yards away until his body ached for rest, pleading to stop.
It was a vast field. No trees, just sunburnt yellow grass.
There in the middle sat some stupid old rambler with busted windows and no door. He felt stupid, almost. Like he came all the way here for no reason. A waste of time. He paused for a long while, contemplating on whether or not to turn around and leave. Serj felt genuinely hurt, like the flock led him on, only to be disappointed. Something inside him made him want to go inside the building though. Doing so would be a big gamble, the shack was something you'd see in a horror movie of some sort. It looked like somewhere you'd get kidnapped and die a painful death. He'd have to be batshit crazy or on drugs to walk into that thing. He felt an odd chill run down his back the longer he kept staring at it. Soon after, a strong gut feeling explicitly telling him to stay away. Serj turned his head the other way to leave. It was far too late, however. The moment the hand on his shoulder snaked down his back it was minutes too late.
He immediately whipped his head around out of instinct, and was met by a god awful sight. A man standing at around 6 foot with red hair and clown facepaint was hovering over him, with his hand still on Serj's shoulder. He wore a yellow and red-striped jumpsuit, gripping a blade in his right hand. The clown's smile was so uncanny, so intimidating in a sense that would send the nearest toddler in a coma, running away and crying. Serj's blood ran cold. He didn't want to make any sudden movements, so he froze, out of fear. It was fight, flight, or freeze for him. He didn't dare to move. Not with him holding a weapon in his hand. These few moments could be the last breaths this man could take. Serj could end up dead in the middle of nowhere, and nobody would find him. He fought eye contact as the man opened his mouth.
"You look tired today, Serj..."