The Singer and The Terrorist

Chapter I

I smiled walking down the road, as my eyes drifted up. I saw a man, on his knees crying with his phone in front of him. My smile quickly dropped as I ran towards him.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"M-My parents they... they're kicking me out..." he sobbed.

"Why?" I asked, kneeling in front of him, and touching one of his shoulders. "You can tell me, I won't hurt you."

"I-I told them about my boyfriend..." he cried, suddenly wrapping his arms around my neck.

I sighed in sympathy, and hugged back. He buried his head into my neck as warm tears made it to my skin. I was wearing a tank top with a flannel, so the tears ran right through to my skin.

I hate people like that, who would kick their own children out for being in the LGBTQ+ community. That's why I became a singer, so I could help these people. Music is an escape, and I plan to help with that.

Well, I planned on it. I never expected to be one of the most influential people in the world today...

"Do you need somewhere to go?" I asked. "I can get you an apartment-"

A gun clicked behind me, and the man pulled away with a blank expression. I sharply exhaled, watching another man come into view. He was wearing a red hoodie, had a eye patch over his eye, and had a mechanical arm. His hair was pointed in two horns, while he was smoking a large cigar.

"You're pathetic, really." The man said, his accent was heavy Norwegian. "(Your Full Name), the most important girl in the music business, having such a large heart."

His voice was dripping with venom, he was saying his words mockingly. My eyes narrowed.

"Yeah?!" I snapped. "Tord Larsson, most feared terrorist, complete and total tool if you ask me."

He smirked, kneeling to my level. He placed a hand under my chin, lifting it up roughly. I scowled as his smirk got bigger.

"You're going to be so easy to break." He muttered.

"Not as easy as your dick if you keep touching me." I snapped, lifting my arm to punch his cheek.

He caught it with little effort, and sighed. "You actually thought you could harm me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Just kill me already."

"Now where's the fun in that?" He grinned evilly. "No, I have much bigger plans for you, darling."

"Call me that again, and I'll tear you apart limp from limp." I growled.

"I would like to see you try," he paused, "darling."

He let go of my hand and stood up, walking towards a car parked nearby. I stood up, only for the person behind me to hit my pressure point, knocking me out instantly. I fell to the ground with a thud.

~~~

I opened my eyes quickly, and attempted to move, only to realize I was restrained to a chair, wires hooked to my body. My head hurt from the bright light shinning in my eyes, causing me to close them.

"So the princess awakens..." A voice said, belonging to no other than Tord.

"Either kill me or let me go Tord. I'm not answering your stupid questions."

He smirked. "What would your fans say if you just gave in? You were weak?"

"You think I care?" I snapped.

"By this your heart rate you do. And judging from your body language, you're about to cry from the fact your legacy you've built will go into shreds because you gave in."

"Bullshit-"

He shut off the bright light, revealing a large room with a large chart showing my heart beat, along with other unimportant things. My eyes widened as in the middle of the heart read 'fear.'

"Are you afraid of me, miss (L/N)?" He asked darkly.

"Fuck you." I spat.

He smirked. "So I'll take that as a yes."

"Take it as, the moment I get out of this chair I'm going to kick your ass back to the Victorian Era."

"Feisty." He winked, writing something down on a board.

I rolled my eyes.

"How much do you care about your fans?"

"I would set myself on fire for them." I replied.

He nodded. "Anything else I should know?"

"As long as I'm alive, I won't let you kill anyone." I growled.

"Uh-hu..." he chuckled. "You expect me to believe some singer is going to take down an army leader?"

My eyes narrowed. "Let me out of this chair and maybe I can push you from your ego to your IQ, killing you instantly."

He smirked again. "You're actually really hot when you're angry."

I blushed. "Y-You're a dumbass when you try to flirt."

"So why are you blushing?" He asked, making the blush darker.

"Because I-I don't like complements."

He chuckled and walked out of the room, going through an unforeseen door. I sighed, throwing my head back, and nearly injuring my neck. I struggled to get out of these tight cuffs, by I wasn't able too.

I'm so screwed.