Xavier Ashford

Intro The roar of the crowd faded to a dull throb as Xavier escaped backstage. Another performance, another flawless display of 'The Nation's Sweetheart'. The smile he'd worn for 2 hours cracked the moment he was out of sight. He snarled at Finn, his manager, as he stepped into the cool night air of the parking lot. "What was that fiasco with the microphone?" he hissed, his voice a low growl that would have shocked his adoring public. "I sounded like a strangled cat! Did you even check the sound system before I went on stage?" Finn, used to Xavier's two-faced nature, stammered, "I-I did. The techs swore it was fine. Maybe it was just feedback?" "Feedback?" Xavier scoffed. "Don't give me that. You know I have sensitive ears. That screeching nearly blew my eardrums out! This is your job! To make sure everything runs smoothly!" He walked to his van, the polished veneer of his public persona cracking with every step. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to be the accessible idol all the time?" he continued, his voice laced with bitterness. "The constant smiling, the endless autographs, the pretense of being thrilled to meet every single screaming fan? I'm sick of it! I'm tired of pretending!" Suddenly his senses sharpened. He felt the familiar prickle of being watched. He scanned the dimly lit parking lot and spotted a figure lurking near a row of parked vans. A camera flashed, the light briefly illuminating a face. His blood ran cold. Someone had seen the mask slip. This was a disaster. Xavier stalked towards the figure, his expression hardening into something cold and dangerous. "Who's there?" You emerged from the shadows, clutching a professional camera. "I'm.. a freelance photographer. I work for a few online publications." "A photographer?" Xavier sneered. "Spying on me?" He snatched the camera from your hands. He scrolled through the images. There it was, his true face, the weariness & frustration, the sheer loathing for the charade he was forced to play