(A/N) NEW FICTION ALERT.
Alrighty kiddies! Yes, yes, I've started a new fiction. It's a My Chemical Romance Vampire fiction, but nothing- hopefully- as cliche as the ones out there. I honestly have no idea where I'm going with this, and unless I get 1) really bored or 2) some great/ threatening reviews, I probably won't continue it. Please, don't hurt me if I never update, like I said, I may not. I most likely will though, the guilt gets to me, and I like the fact that this plot is so open. Okay, so, I'll be making it up as we go along! ANYTHING is subject to change, by the way. Even the title. Oh yeah, and this is set in Revenge era but after Gerard gets clean and sober. :P Anyhoo, on we go! Enjoi the first chapter to Fatality is Like Ghosts in Snow.
P.S. May be drastically of of character. Really, this was never meant to be posted, but I did anyway. This is my side project, a place to turn to when I have writer's block in my more important stories. Maybe not- so- quick updates, so be patient! I cannot assure any great writing, either.
Disclaimer: I do not own My Chemical Romance. If I did, I wouldn't be writing right now. *insert winky face here*
It couldn't have been more than four minutes after the two men sat down that one of them chose.
"That one." The shorter one pointed to a girl rapidly strumming on her guitar on the stage directly in front of them. "Female Caucasian, age, approximately, 16. Her."
His company bit his lip. "Frank, are you sure? It's so soon, how could you have chosen so qui-"
"Gerard." He was cut off. "I just know, alright? Don't question it. Have I ever been wrong?" He hadn't, so Gerard shut his mouth and continued looking.
It took Gerard much longer than it took Frank to choose, but when he did, he was sure. Well, 99.9% sure. He's never 100% sure, but he wings it, because he has to choose sometime.
"That one. Over there, two stages left from the stage on the far right. Male, Caucasian, age, approximately, 17. The singer."
Frank nodded. They were sitting on the top bench of a bleacher packed shoulder to shoulder with people, but the space around them was desolate. The two emitted a feeling of mystery that warned people and shook them off. They were at a battle of the bands, where about fifteen stages were lined up one after another. There were pits in front of each one, and then the bleachers going all around. The arena- type area was outdoors, and it was a bright and sunny day, which didn't match up to the ominous vibe surrounding the men. A large banner drifted in the breeze above their heads, proudly boasting, "Annual New Jersey Battle of the Bands, 2005!"
The two were the choosers. They decided the ones that were targeted, went to get them. Mikey was on watch for them, and Ray was at the van, always ready and waiting for a quick getaway.
Checking his watch, Frank nodded to himself. "Okay," he said, "this is the last song in the last set. When it's done, they'll all be backstage getting their shit, leaving, whatever. We'll catch 'em then. Alright? Meet me at the van once you got him, and keep your cell phone on and on you at all times. Call me if shit gets freaky. Those fucks could be anywhere."
The song was over by then, and Gerard nodded at Frank. They started off in separate directions.
Frank, hood up, walked silently past the security guards with a little trick of his. He walked into the backstage, but stopped when he saw that the girl was busy conversing with a boy about her age that Frank recognized as the singer of her band. He slid behind a podium and waited.
To Frank, who naturally had the attention span of a goldfish, waiting was terrible and seemed to last forever. But after some time, the girl finally broke away from her conversation and walked to an empty corner to pack up her guitar.
Frank knew getting the girl to come with him wouldn't be a problem. He was, after all, Frank Iero, and this girl was wearing a My Chemical Romance wristband. He tapped her on the shoulder and dropped his hood.
Realization crossed the girl's face and she opened her mouth, but Frank tapped a finger to his lips. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she nodded.
"Follow me?" Frank asked quietly, and she nodded once more.
Gerard Arthur Way was famous, and he knew it. People loved him, and he knew it. Why not wield his power happily when the situation called for it?
Totally conspicuous, he walked nodding, smiling, and hugging fans until he had worked his way through an otherwise impenetrable crowd of moshers and punks. He jumped onstage, and then nodded his head towards the door to backstage, willing the singer to follow him, his long, black hair falling in his eyes.
The backstage was empty, so Gerard started, "Hey, um, I'm Gerard-"
"Oh, I know who you are!" the boy laughed. He had auburn hair that was almost a Mohawk but not, a simple lip ring and nose ring of the same style, bright green, almost yellowy eyes, and everything about him screamed 'Frank as a teenager.' Gerard had a nostalgic moment, and laughed. "Hey, come with me, will ya?" he asked the kid.
Nodding excitedly, the boy showed him out the backdoor.
By the time Gerard and the boy showed up and the van, Frank and the girl had already been there for about five minutes.
"Gerard! Where have you been?" Frank cried. "You think we've got time to fuck around?"
Gerard sighed. "Frank, lighten up. Where's Mikey?"
"Not back yet," Frank replied. "I'm getting- well, speak of the devil. There he is."
Mikey was sprinting back towards his friends, fast. His expression made Frank and Gee jump in the van, pulling the two kids with them.
Jumping in and slamming the door, Mikey screamed, "RAY! GO!"
He panted, trying to catch his breath as the van screeched off. Lifting his head to look at his friends in the eyes through his hair, he uttered a statement that chilled them to the bone. "They're here."
(A/N) DUH DUH DUH! Who's 'they', you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA! :D Hmm, I'll get right on thinking about that. I like this. I'm gonna go write more now.
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