Foreword

Chapter 1

Mike Shinoda scowled at his pile of drafted designs and ideas for the new advertisement for that damned restaurant... Whatever it was supposed to be. The man's head was swimming with images of steaming plates piled high with food and he was having a painfully disadvantaged brainfart. His boss, Frank Scoufaras, had left the task for his two best graphic designers: Mike Shinoda and Joe Hahn. Frank had insisted that they'd make a load of profit if they succeeded... "they" most likely meaning Frank himself. But of course, there was the commission that the two designers could hope for that came with each assignment. However, the computer screen's blank white canvas was permanently etched into Mike's mind, the repetitive clicking sound of the undo button becoming as frequent as the ticking clock.

The 36-year-old turned to check on Joe's progress only to find the younger man snoozing in a pool of saliva, his head resting on the keyboard. The letter "t" was running across and down the screen to form a giant block of text.

"Joe," Mike hissed in annoyance. Joe muttered something about a sexy frog princess and made kissing motions. Mike snickered and took the opportunity to capture the moment on a video with his smartphone, which he then promptly shoved back into his back pocket. Perfect blackmail material.

"JOE." he elbowed his partner in his chubby torso and Joe woke with a start. He rubbed his eyes and wiped the drool off his face. With a yawn, he raised his eyebrows.

"'Sup, Mike."

"Listen, dude. We've got to finish this shit in a week... Not even. I fucking swear Frank is going to skin us alive if we don't." Mike squinted at the calender hanging next to him in the cubicle. "5 days, man!"

"Ugh, save it for later- I'm exhausted. We really need to take a break; I haven't come up with anything new in two days." Joe muttered. The Texas native was being uncharacteristically lazy. Maybe this was proving to be over-exhausting for them. If even Joe wasn't being productive, this entire thing would probably go downhil. He was the backbone of many projects the two worked on, albeit he could be extremely immature sometimes.

"Fine. Let's just go grab a coffee break and get back to work," Mike spoke reluctantly. "This time we've got to put our heads together to create an idea that will blow Frank's fucking eyebrows off, and we also have to make sure he doesn't catch us out. But just this once, okay?" The man rose from the grey swivel chair which now bore a Shinoda-butt imprint in its memory-foam seat. He started towards the door and Joe trailed behind him, his potbelly jiggling with excitement, as they exited the room, walked down the corridor, and out of the building.

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Greeted by a rush of warm California wind, contrastable to the bitter air-conditioned building the two had just exited, the men ducked their heads to avoid the light drizzle of rain, and swept into the Coffee Bean café two stores down the block.

A jingle of bells chimed quietly from atop the polished door to signify that a customer had entered. As Mike and Joe entered, Mike toyed with his hair-gelled locks, sweeping his now messy fringe into a neater point at the top.

"COUGHyou'resuchagirlCOUGH," Joe snickered, and was responded with a playful jab in his naval. He winced inwardly but laughed good-naturedly.

Few customers sat at the black-and-green color schemed tables. A short-haired, blonde woman sat quietly while stirring her cup of tea. A balding man in a suit swore under his breath and clutched his coffee in one hand so that his knuckles turned white, while frantically scribbling notes on a piece of drafting paper with his other hand. A small group of teenagers had clustered in a corner, giggling and texting their friends while sipping frappuccinos.

The graphic designers strode up to the counter to order something (green tea frapps and a ham & cheese crossaint, their usual) and were about to speak when a curly-haired man rushed up beside them. This all happened so quickly that the words flew out of Mike and Joe's mouths faster than they could shove them back in and stop speaking, as to not interrupt the odd man beside them.

"A small green tea frappuccino and a ham-and-cheese crossaint, please," the men spoke simultaneously. They instantaneously glanced at each other, amused that they had all ordered the same thing. The cashier blinked, looking between the three of her customers and swept her bangs out of her eyes. She hesitated slightly before scribbling the orders down in a looping hybrid between cursive and print. After punching in the coordinating prices and handing them each a receipt, the young woman spoke.

"That'll be 14.59 per person."

Mike, Joe, and the other man produced a couple of bills from their pocket and handed them to the cashier, who promptly laid them inside the cash register, counted the change, and slid the drawer shut with a bang.

"I'll be with the three of you shortly." She stated monotonously, giving the men their change, and turned away to complete the order.

The curly-haired man grinned at Mike and Joe.

"You two sure have good taste in food- mind the pun!" He laughed rather nasally. "I'm Brad, Brad Delson. Lawyer, husband, rock collector, and guitarist." Brad's skinny arms flailed excitedly as he spoke, a smile plastered on his face.

"I'm Joe Hahn, and this is my buddy Mike Shinoda. We're both graphic designers at Scoufaras Associates. We're also nerds, video game enthusiasts, and musicians." Joe spoke in Brad's nasal manner of talking so Mike pinched him outside Brad's line of vision. However, Brad either didn't notice or didn't mind because he continued to smile, unshaken.

"Nice to meet you, Brad." Mike extended a hairy hand towards Brad, who shook it weakly, yet with great gusto.

"Nice to meet you both," Brad echoed. Then his eyebrows jerked up. "Would you two like to join me here?" he patted a table next to him.

"Sure, why not? Thanks, man." Mike agreed whilst Joe smiled and nodded his head. After their food and drinks were ready, they thanked the waitress that served them and sat down for some small talk. Brad revealed that he eagerly wished to begin a rock band but did not know anyone who was interested in joining, and told the designers that he knew how to play many instruments, including the trumpet and the guitar. Joe brought up that he turntabled and tinkered with computers as a hobby, but that he worked with Mike, who also had similar hobbies.

"Speaking of which, we have to go back to work before our boss catches us sneaking out for a break," Mike explained, embarassed, while Brad's eyebrows flew up once again. Joe got up on cue and tossed his and Mike's trash & leftovers. "It was nice meeting you though!" he added.

"Well, it was n- hold on a quick second, would you two be interested in joining my band to-be? I still need a lead vocalist, a keyboardist, a bassist... and a couple of other people I can't put my finger on at the moment. If not, would you mind calling me if you find anyone who'd be willing to join?" Brad asked quickly.

"Not at all," Joe smiled, and glanced pointedly at Mike as a joke.

"Great! Here's my number..." the younger man produced a pen and a piece of scrap notebook paper from his pocket, scribbled down something, and pressed it into Mike's hand, who promptly shoved it into his pocket, shooting a look at Joe.

"I hope to meet up again sometime to chat; it was nice meeting you both!" he continued, grinning.

"Sure thing, it was nice meeting you." Mike repeated. Brad seemed like a nice although rather eccentric guy, but it was likely, he realized, because he was so pressed for time, that he found this behavior irritating.

Joe and Mike shook hands again with Brad politely, who beamed with joy, and then they headed out the door. The rain had subsided and the two men headed back into the building and into their workroom, safely avoiding Frank. Then they sank down into their plush swivel chairs and began staring at their computer screens once again.