Disclaimer: I do not own this music video or the band it spawned from.

First timers to my FOB video fics: this is indeed a fanfic based on the storyy in the video "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me". You know, the vampire one?

So... here's the sequel... to be honest, I didn't really expect it to be demanded for so much. Obviously, the title is a homage to the new album and the latest single.

And by the way, and saw the new video for it... I saw The Baron there (for any of you first timers, that's what I called the head vampire of the Dandies) and I was all... like... "GAAAH! HE'S THERE!"

And last but not least, for all of you people who are sitting here reading my author's notes, thinking "The first thing I'm going to do when she shuts up is report her for not being in the right section!" remember that technically these aren't the real band members (I mean, come on, Andrew probably doesn't really use a rapier and Pete Wentz probably really isn't a vampire), and there isn't another proper category for it, anyway. Plus, would that really satisfy you?


The last house of the formerly pleasant suburban gated community began to succumb to the growing flames. Every one of the two or three story houses were pristine, glowing with white walls, tall, neat fences or hedges, and bright green grass. They all lined litter-free streets. The city in the center of the suburban areas was a widely known tourist trap. Lovely hotels were made fit for a king. The restaurants were recognized as Grade-A by cities far and wide. But right now, the most recognizable trait of the city was the fact that it was burning to the ground.

"You were right! That was fun!" An officer of the anonymous group said, rocking slightly on his feet. He was clad in a black leather jacket, dark jeans, and white T-shirt.

"And we got six or seven new members as well." Another one quietly commented. He had short, white-blonde hair and a strange assortment of black and brown leather belts all over his waist and torso.

"So, what does one need to do to get a higher position in this quaint little group?" A gloomy looking girl asked no one particular person. Her hair shone in the white moonlight, with the dark blue color she had dyed it a short while ago.

"Oh, you're new! And a teen! Get used to your spot for a while!" The first officer replied.

The girl didn't say anything. She smiled, revealing two brand new, shiny, white vampire fangs. "And I'm just fine with that!"

A young woman with a black leather tank covered in buckles and straps of different kinds flipped her thick blonde hair. "It took me forever to get from the lowest of the positions." She stood in front of three other men wearing similar black clothing.

"Are we ready to move on?" A skinny, handsome-faced vampire stepped in front of his group. A roar of happy, enthusiastic shouts and the revving of multiple motorcycle engines at once was the response he got.

The new teen soldier steadied herself on her new chopper. She had ridden a couple of times before, but still was unsure of her own skills in a group that was no doubt skilled on any kind of motorcycle. She clipped on her lucky little keychain, a navy blue cat with silver ears and red eyes. She turned to another member next to her, a dark-haired Hispanic-looking young man near the blond woman. "What do you do for fun in this group again?"

He smiled. "Just what we're doing now! And what we did before to your town! Get members, destroy stuff! And let me tell you the best parts of the place we're going next…"

"What?" She smiled, again revealing the teeth she was already so proud of. The girl never knew her parents, was regarded as a complete freak in her school, and all around had a pretty bad life in her tourist trap of a town, so she was rather happy to see it burn to ashes.

"There are other vampires, so we get to mess them up. But it's even better to mess with the heads off these four vampire hunters in the neighborhood. One of which is a vampire, but that's a story for another time!"

"Are they tough?"

The blond girl responded for him. "Meh, they take on large numbers pretty well. But it's all a matter of finding their weaknesses."

"How do you know?" The teen was curious.

"Remember that a lot of the people here used to be part of a group in that little town."

The discussion was stopped there when the leader began leading his large group out on their motorcycles.

He was leader of a whole new vampire group. He was glad to be out of the shadow of The Baron, his former leader, and taking the spotlight as the leader of his vampiric biker gang.

Sorel was glad that Peter and his little friends made the mistake of leaving him alive. Though he was more than happy to be where he was now, he decided that he had to be the one to teach them that every mistake comes with a consequence.


Joe, Andrew, and Pete all sat on the sidewalk. It was the first snow of their town, and it would grow even colder within days. They had run out of things to do inside. A long training session was already taken care off. They had enough food. Their PS2 had finally broken after countless hours of playing (and a few kicks from every boy couldn't have helped matters). The only thing left to do was their current little activity: watch ice melt.

Joe looked at the icicle he had set down in front of himself. Then he glanced at Andrew's, then at Pete's. "You better hurry up, guys. Mine's going to be just a puddle in the sunset soon."

"You wish!" Pete stared at his icicle, willing it to melt faster in the weak, almost completely set sun.

"You're both wrong. Mine's clearly the melt…-ey…-est." Andrew commented (the sad truth was that none of the three slabs of ice had melted at all).

"What are you doing?" Patrick came out and stood above them all, crossing his arms and tucking on his hat in the cold. Joe and Andrew both wore winter jackets. Pete only wore an ordinary gray hoodie over an ordinary purple shirt. He was trying to grow used to the cold, or at least testing to see how much his vampiric powers resisted the cold. So far, he could see one (rather painful) thing: his vampiric powers had absolutely no affect to resisting the temperature. At least the sun was almost down.

"Watching icicles melt!" Joe said, like it was obvious.

"WELL, GET UP!"

"There's no need to yell!" Andrew jumped up. Pete and Joe followed. "What is it?"

"I heard a ruckus coming from downtown."

"That could mean anything. Maybe people are celebrating the fact that the Dandies are disbanded, the Skinheads fled, and the Punks are in hibernation." Joe suggested.

"Allow me to repeat!" Patrick said. "I heard a ruckus. From town. I heard it here. It's worth checking into."

"Did you know your voice cracks and sounds girlish when you get excited?" Andrew commented.

Patrick looked taken aback. "It does not! And you guys have to quit being slackers!"

"We're not slackers! We trained just a little while ago!" Joe stood up. "And it's not our fault you sound female."

"Slacker!"

"Female!"

"Slacker!"

"WOMAN!"

"SHUT UP!" Pete shouted. "And Patrick, he's right. We did train."

"And I kicked your butt!" Joe said happily, almost bouncing up and down.

"I'm not used to fighting non-vampires!" Pete said quickly for his defense.

"And you're probably still healing from your injury that The Baron gave you." Patrick pointed out.

Pete turned around to face Patrick and looked him in the eye. "NO. I'm not. I'm fine. He's gone."

"Are we ready to go into town?" Andrew said quickly, sensing the growing tension all around.

"This is going to be fun!" Pete said. "Haven't met up with any vampires lately! I need the practice."


"Aren't you cold?" Patrick asked. But an answer was cut off. They had reached the heart of the city. And of course, right in front of them was Sorel and his group.

"What's up, Peter?" Sorel looked up at him.

Pete growled at him. "Pity we didn't murder you when we had the chance!"

"A pity that is. Before I teach you a lesson in the pros of not giving mercy, you haven't met most of my new friends."

"HEY! You aren't speaking all British-like anymore. And you haven't even lost your temper!" Joe pointed out.

"I'm not actually British. Only The Baron was actually British."

"You don't have a monocle either," Andrew observed. "But you did take Livington's rings." This was true, Sorel was wearing several rings, one on each finger of his right hand.

"I was friends with Livington. I'm honoring his memory."

"By robbing his corpse?" Patrick asked skeptically.

"Shut up, dipshit." Sorel pulled out a shiny blade from a long pack on his motorcycle. The sword had a black guard and pommel, and a leather grip. The guard had a bat engraved onto it. The blade was wider than the rapiers Andrew favored, and the edges were grooved. The pommel was shaped like a skull, carved out of obsidian, with rubies for eyes. Overall, the blade appeared to have been made for badasses.

"Why don't I get a sword like that?" Andrew whined.

"Because you're a good guy," one of Sorel's female officers said derogatively.


Isn't that the truth.

Yay! It's back! Whee! Whee! Whe- okay, I'm done.

The little button right near this text. Hear that? Andrew's crying because you haven't reviewed yet. Do you want Joe to be next?