Brittany was the worst. She was weepy and depressed, like a lost puppy. You'd never think she was the best dancer in the whole place. Kurt kept her close, his arm around her waist.

"I just can't believe its over," She sniffed, wiping away her tears.

"Oh! Sweetie, you're still gonna see me! We may not been performing together, but we're still gonna hang out and spend time together."

"Yeah, Britts. Just because Kurt walked away from the job he's had for years, doesn't mean he's gonna walk away from us."

Kurt glared at Santana from the other side of the dressing room. She was leaning against her make-up desk, filing her nails. Kurt could practically taste the bitterness in her voice when she spoke, though he knew she wasn't angry.

"We're a family." He said sternly, embracing the blonde beside him. Santana looked her; a sarcastic look across her face. "And always will be; no matter what."

"Well, isn't this sweet!" The three turned towards the door, finding Jesse standing in the doorway.

"Do you mind? This is private." Santana said rudely.

Jesse smiled, entering the room anyway. "Saying goodbye? How touching." Stopping in front of Kurt, Jesse held his hand out. "Jesse St. James. Also know as Mercury."

"Mercury?" Kurt mimicked.

"A blessing to the late and great Freddie. Some say our voices sound alike."

"Is that true?" Kurt muttered, pulling his hand from Jesse's grasp. "If you'll excuse,"

Jesse winced, biting his lip. "I'd love to, but we really need to get ready for the show."

"Oh. I guess I better head out then."

"Kurt, you don't have to listen to him." Santana stepped up.

"Seriously, San, its fine. I gotta head home anyway."

"You're not gonna stay for the show?" Brittany asked.

"Oh, please, do!" Jesse said, watching his expression in the mirror. "It would be such a great way to end your night here."

"I will, but just for a little while." Pulling the girls close, Kurt kissed their cheeks soundly. "Be great out there." He told them before leaving the room.

Jesse turned around, his face filled with annoyance. "Hello? Are you gonna just stand there or get changed?"

Santana scowled at Jesse, but did as he ordered.

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It was the first time since before he got hired that Kurt sat in the audience of the club. He was excited of course. There was something magical about watching a performance on stage, and having the performers being his closest friends was an even better kick.

Snuggling back into his seat, Kurt watched as the lights went off and the music began. The spotlight stopped at the far right, causing Mercury, clad in a black vest and match skinny jeans, and body glitter to shine.

"I got a dirty mind; I got filthy ways. I'm tryna Bath my Ape in your Milky Way. I'm a legend, I'm irreverent. I be reverand. I be so fa-a-ar up, we don't give a f-f-f-f-uck."

Kurt rolled his eyes droll fully as the female clients swooned and cheered as Mercury walked around stage, doing his best to over-shadow Kanye's stupid lyrics with his sex appeal. Finally, another light flashed onto the middle of the stage, revealing Lita. Her arms and legs were chained in the middle of a small arch way, forcing her body into the shape of an X; reminding Kurt of a scene from King Kong. Unlike the dancers, who were covered in head to two in purple and blue make-up, and wore white outfits, Lita was clad in all black.

Her voice was perfect for the song, just as Kurt figured when they first announced it. As the performance went on, a small pain in Kurt's chest began to grow, and Kurt couldn't take it any longer. Getting up from his seat, Kurt headed out the back door. Azimio wasn't at his post, but seeing as it was opening night for Mercury, he was probably up front watching.

Shrugging his shoulders, Kurt left the club for the final time.

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Kurt could hear the music booming as he walked down the alleyway; his hands shoved tightly in his pockets. Even with the light of the city, it was nearly pitch black, which made it impossible to see the group of men standing at the opening.

"Well, well, looky who we have here? One of the pretty little dancers?" Kurt stopped at the sound of their voices, keeping his head down low. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Don't wanna dance for us?" He was used to jerky New Yorkers at this point, so Kurt just kept walking. "Hey! I'm talkin to you!"

One of the men grabbed at Kurt as he walked past, but Kurt pushed away. "Get off!" He shouted, stunning the three.

"Fuck, bro! It's a guy!"

The leader, dressed in an ugly blue jacket, Jets jersey, dirty jeans, and Met's hat, stepped forward. He over looked Kurt's outfit; long beige jacket, skinny jeans, and designer boots. "Looks like we gots ourselves a queer here, boys." Kurt's eyes widened as the other two stepped forward. "And you know how we feel about queers."

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Kurt turned down the alley and ran towards the door, hoping to get back into the club, but the men were too fast for him. Grabbing hold of his arms, the two pulled him forward, and held him still so the leader could smash his fist into his stomach. Kurt groaned from the pain as the two holding him hollered with laughter. Slamming him into the concrete wall, they got a yelp out of him.

"Problem, faggot?" The leader asked uncaringly, before elbowing him in the back, pushing him down to his knees. "Look, boys! His favorite position!"

"Nah, his ass isn't getting pounded; can't be his favorite!"

Gripping his hair, the leader pulled Kurt's head back to look at him. "You wanna suck my cock, fairy boy? Bet you'd like it."

"Go to hell!" Kurt yelled, thrashing his arms, hoping to break loose.

"I'd keep that pretty mouth shut if I were you." The leader warned. Leaning forward, Kurt spin in his face. Wiping it away, Leader cracked his knuckles. "Now hold still so you can kiss my fist!"

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Kurt moaned and groaned, trying to block every kick that came with his arms. By this point, he could barely think of anything else, but the pain. They had kick and punched him until he could no longer stand. With every motion he made, they stopped it by forcing more and more weight into him. All while calling him name after name, and laughing with joy at his pain.

The strangest notion was that their beatings almost seemed to go in sync with the beat of the music, or maybe it was just Kurt's delusional mind trying to stay with him.

Kurt remained still as he did everything possible to keep his eyes open. His body was raw from the beating and he was bleeding in multiple places. They had ripped his clothes, taunting him for his fashion. They continued to do so, but he was barely there anymore.

"Come on, anymore he'll be dead." One of the minions stated.

"Like that's a bad thing?" The other laughed.

One of thing, Kurt didn't see who, kicked him again in the leg, and Kurt cried out in pain. They men laughed like hyenas at that.

"Come on, boys. This fag is finished." Leader said. Stepping back, he kicked Kurt hard in the face, and spit on him before leaving the alleyway.

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Kurt opened his eyes gently, though it was almost impossible to see. His eyes were swallowing and the alley was full of darkness. His felt as if he has been run over by a truck; a very homophobic truck.

He knew he couldn't stay there. He had to get up; he had to get help. Summoning all the strength and courage he had remained held, Kurt slowly began to drag himself down the alleyway. He could feel the bones in his legs twist and crunch as he tried to stand; they were defiantly broken. He tried to call for help, but he couldn't speak. His throat burned from the pain. He was ten feet away from the opening of the alley when he collapsed, coughing repeatedly. With each cough came more and more blood, and Kurt felt dizzier and dizzier.

Even with all his devotion, Kurt just couldn't take it any longer, and passed out in a pool of his own blood.