Author's Note: There were a few things that identified my stories on quizilla, especially if it was a story where magic was involved. One was melodramatic angstiness. Another was long, drawn-out POVs full of internal monologuing instead of actual concrete action. The third was that at some point, something was gonna go KERBOOM in a truly epic and spectacular fashion. This chapter happens to feature all three. And I love it. Enjoy!

[Billie's POV]
It had been three weeks since I last saw Roxie and her brother. In those three weeks, I'd had little to do except smoke a lot of pot and think. And think I did. Unendingly. I even dreamt about them. The memory of what had happened during our last meeting constantly played in my head, taunting me, driving me crazy.

How the fuck did he dare to attack me like he had? All I'd been doing was catching up with a friend. If I wanted to talk to Roxie, that was none of Jimmy's goddamned business. I got that he wasn't pleased that I'd messed with his sister, but she was a big girl. She could take care of herself. She didn't need him to play Superman for her, and I sure as hell didn't need him to lecture me as if he were my fucking stepfather.

The bastard. Who did he think he was, some sort of savior? He was a freak, that's what he was. Walking around blasting people unconscious with… whatever the hell he'd done. He was just another one of God's mistakes, a waste of space, another reject from the Streets of Shame.

And another thing. How in the hell had he gotten magic? Nobody had had the magic for forever; they were just myths. So how had he gotten it? And why him? What made Jimmy Blake so damn special?

For that matter, what made his sister so special? She was just a weak little girl who depended on other people to take care of her. Why should I get in trouble for trying to toughen the little crybaby's hide? And what did she do to thank me for that lesson? Go crying to her big brother! What the hell was wrong with her? If you have a problem, you take care of it yourself. That's how it works in the real world. Nobody gives a shit about you; you have to fend for yourself. She had to learn that if she was ever gonna survive.

It was infuriating. I had done nothing wrong, and now I was being put through hell for it. Was I just gonna lay there and take it like a bitch?

No I fucking was not. I was going to get my revenge.

They'd think twice before they fucked with Billie Joe Armstrong again.

I spent weeks sitting in a cloud of smoke, chainsmoking joints as I meticulously hatched a plan. It was simple, and foolproof.

They'd never know what hit them.

[Roxie's POV]
We were having a really good afternoon.

Jimmy and I were in the house alone. He'd sent Armatage to San Fransisco for a really big delivery, and come over to keep me company for the week that A would be gone. We'd decided to amuse ourselves by watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show and Hedwig and the Angry Inch while plastered. Which was incredibly amusing. Nothing is more hilarious than watching Jimmy sing "I'm Just a Sweet Transvestite" while both you and he are drunker than shit.

When the movies were over, we found ourselves still bored. So we'd drunk even more, and begun singing a song Jimmy had written at the top of our lungs.

St. Jimmy's coming to town across the alleyway
Upon the Boulevard like a zip guard on parade
Light of a silhouette, he's insubordinate
Coming at you on the count of 1, 2, 1 2 3 4

"My name is St. Jimmy, I'm a son of a gun, I'm the one that's from the way outside, now," I sang into my Jack Daniels bottle, imitating my brother's swagger and snarl. "I'm a teenage assassin executing some fun in the cult of the life of crime, now."
"I'd really hate to say it, but I told you so, so shut your mouth before I shoot you down ol' boy," Jimmy picked it up while I danced around the room. "Welcome to the club and give me some blood. I'm the resident leader of the lost and found."

We saluted each other with our bottles and drank deeply, each of us draining our bottle. He grabbed me by the waist and we both started dancing around while finishing the song, screaming it at the top of our lungs.

"It's comedy and tragedy. It's St. Jimmy and that's my naaaaaaaaame… AND DON'T YOU FUCKING WEAR IT OUT!!!"

Jimmy giggled as he collapsed to the floor. I laughed at him, but my attention was taken by someone walking in front of our house. They were walking kinda slow, which set off my paranoia immediately. He was wearing all black, another suspicious sign.

Lately, Jimmy had had a lot more people after him than usual. His enemies had become a lot more bold, much more desperate in their attempts to kill the King of the Streets. Though J had refused to hire bodyguards, saying it was the coward's way out, we were both constantly on the lookout for would-be assassins.

My eyes widened and I froze when I saw the guy's face.

"J-Jimmy…" I said faintly, immediately starting to shake.

Our eyes met through the window, and he smirked. A horrible, malicious smirk that made me feel as if I'd just been splashed with ice-cold water. A smirk that turned a handsome face into the picture of evil.

My eyes widened to the size of large platters when I saw what he tauntingly held up.

"JIMMY, GET DOWN!" I shrieked as Billie threw the heart grenade through the window.

Jimmy's head whipped around so he could look at me-

KABOOM