Although it had been 20 minutes since Infinite left the stage, there was still a fair few left in the ever-dwindling crowd. Most were those at the base of Wembley Stadium, the die-hard fans who had waited over 24 hours to see the band up-close. Their luck at seeing their heroes in the flesh didn’t extend to the exit strategies, however; as the ones farthest from the exits, it will take them the longest to leave. Not that they’re complaining, however. A festive atmosphere was exuded by the 2,000 or so, singing amongst themselves the Infinite songs that they had been subjected to for the past two-and-a-half hours. It was, they agreed, the best concert Infinite had put on; if this was indeed the final performance Eric Quillington would have with the band before his impending retirement, at least he made it count. After all, if there was only one word to describe the frontman, it would likely be ‘theatrical’. Showmen always know how to stage the perfect exit.

All noise, all whispers, were cut to silence in an instant as three figures took the stage. Those towards the front of the stage could not only recognize the trio as members of Infinite, but could also see the disturbing looks on their faces. Matt Roberts, usually one of the more collected rock-stars, looked almost unrecognizable; his face, contorted with pain and grief, was a ghostly shade of white, while the rest of his body was shaking with an almost violent intensity. Greg Oldson was similarly overwhelmed with emotion, but expressed it in the opposite way. His eyes had an empty, deadened look to them, but tears streamed down his cheeks nonetheless. But it was Amelia’s appearance that was perhaps the most heartbreaking; unlike the other two, she showed no restraint to the sorrow that was building up inside of her. The key to this misery was clutched in her hand; a piece of paper with the final words ever committed to pen by one of the most beloved cultural icons of the modern era. Stumbling up to the microphone still positioned at the front of the stage, she unfolded the suicide note and began to read;

“These words will be mythologized more than anything I’ve ever written for a song. And that’s a shame, really, because I already poured all I have to give in the music. There’s nothing else that really needs to be said; this honestly feels like I’m writing out a grocery list. I’ll never see PANIC reunite with Ryan Ross Hernandez, I’ll never see Jason go through his fat Elvis period and play at Vegas, I’ll never see Glamazon continue to be the greatest human being on the planet, and I’ll never see Amelia Florentine soar as the new singer of Infinite. But you will. And I promise, each of these moments in your life will be just as poignant and worthwhile, with or without me.”

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(OOC: This is, obviously, in the future. Think of it as a teaser trailer for what’s to come)