Do or die, you'll never make me! Because the world will never take my heart; go and try, you'll never break me! We want it all, we wanna play this part (We'll carry on!)
Gerard opened his eyes to a dim, weak light, then noticed himself to be lying on the cold, hard ground, within what seemed like a large cave made from debris. He slowly sat up, with a stinging pain still echoing in his head. Where am I…? He had expected burning lava and torturous heat, but perhaps there was no more room in that hell, and no more room in the next. He touched the back of his head; to his surprise, the bullet-hole was gone. From outside, loud, guitar-heavy rock music pumped into his ears.
Managing to stand up with wobbly legs, he cautiously walked out of the makeshift cave. The sight in front of him was particularly… special; marvelous in its own way, he must say. Dust covered almost every inch of ground, and copious amounts of rubble lay all around. In the far distance, beyond the rubble, was the outline of a crumbling city. It had now corroded to the mere basic frames of former concrete buildings, and some large chunks of material scattered randomly on top of the remaining waste. In the middle of all the debris marched a parade of phantoms; each one of them wore the black and white outfits with different variations, though the majority also donned some additional trinkets and white masks. Some of the female phantoms sported monochrome dresses with dashes of red, instead of the common black jacket with white stripes. Despite their slight differences in appearance, they were still all somewhat transparent but undoubtedly real. The marching phantoms looked almost exactly like the two that visited him before his descend into Helena's arms (each with their own variances of clothing, of course); perhaps instead of Hell, he'd gone somewhere else?
Around him, ashes glided freely in the air; as he inhaled, a few fine grains of dust flew into his nostrils, making him sneeze. In the dull, gloomy sky hovered a large black zeppelin, with the words "The Black Parade" messily inscribed with white. Gerard's surroundings were a flurry of black, white, grey and sporadic red, as the ashes continued to drift about. Holy shit, the parade was seemingly endless; he could not see the final person. However, a large, red-rimmed float with a rock band playing on top came around occasionally, though there seemed to be no other repeating phantom marchers. The four players in the band were wearing virtually identical black-and-white outfits, although looking more closely, Gerard did identify many differences. In the band, a cheerful man with an afro and a much shorter man with black hair were passionately playing their guitars, while a dark-haired, skinny boy with awkwardly bending knees was playing bass, and a golden-haired man sat in the back, rocking out on his drum. Strangely enough, the band had no lead singer. Gerard didn't know how long he stared at the parade, but he was obviously struck with awe.
Gerard spotted a blonde, long-haired lady in a large black-and-white gown, wearing a gas mask that protected her entire face. To her sides trod two short-haired, skinny ladies in black vests and spiky, slick boots, with a horizontal black streak of makeup across both women's eyes. One of them held a sign that read "STARVED TO DEATH IN A LAND OF PLENTY", while the other's left hand was a wooden stick with feathers and skulls on top. They both had solemn expressions on their faces, though the one on the left seemed to be noticeably more so. They were followed by an even skinnier man wearing a large, greyish hospital gown, white socks, and black slippers. A metal hung around his neck, and circling his eyes were huge, dark rings. Maybe he just joined this place a short while ago, Gerard concluded at the sight of the hospital gown.
Another marcher, who was trailing behind the skinny ladies, recognized Gerard's enthralled face, and walked to him with graceful, light-footed strides. "Greetings." He bowed down in a polite manner, and strangely, his voice could be heard despite the thunderous music in the background. The phantom wore the apparently traditional black-and-white, but his skin was much paler than most of the marchers (in fact, it seemed to be an extremely unhealthy shade), and his body was much more skeletal, just like the previous man in the hospital gown. He was bald, and his lips were chapped and faded. He might've been diagnosed with cancer when he was still alive, Gerard thought to himself. He looked at the marcher once more, and though he looked pallid and (not to be crude) sickly, his facial features were strikingly similar to Helena's. "H-Hello," Gerard stammered as he continued to ponder about the marcher's face.
Looking up at Gerard once more, the marcher opened his mouth, snapping Gerard out of his thoughts. "Welcome to the Black Parade. It is our honor to have you here." The marcher spoke to him with a firm voice, which surprised Gerard slightly, due to the phantom's fragile appearance. Trying to be mannerly, Gerard smiled back at him as the name gained its way into Gerard's thoughts. The Black Parade… hmm… that name sounds very familiar…
His memories struck him. He remembered that day, when he was a young boy, and his father took him to see a marching band in the city. As a very delighted Gerard stared at the uniform marchers in wonder, his father asked, "Son, when you grow up, will you be the savior of the broken, the beaten and the damned?" Gerard had nodded in slight confusion. Seeing this, he had continued, saying, "Will you defeat them, you demons, and all the non-believers, the plans that they have made? Because one day, I'll leave you, a phantom, to lead you in the summer, to join the black parade."
It was such a blurry memory; at the time, he was probably four or five. But even though he couldn't remember his late father's face, those words have somehow always remained with him. For years, he tried to fulfill his father's wishes of him becoming a savior, and perhaps he'd achieved that by becoming a Killjoy and fighting the evil BL/ind. And now, here he was, joining this Black Parade…
After introducing a few members that the distracted Gerard most likely saw earlier (including Mama, Fear & Regret, and The Patient, although not himself), he presented a mirror to Gerard, holding it up to his face. Gerard let go of his memories, then gazed at his reflection, eyes wide with surprise. His vampire teeth were gone, returning to their original positions in the two flawless rows inside his mouth. His hair was a shade of silver-ish white-blond, and a small ring of black eyeliner circled his once more hazel eyes. His bloodstained suit had been changed to the same outfit that the band on the float wore. Gerard smiled with joy, approving his fresh look. Two beautiful black leather gloves were slipped onto his somewhat transparent hands, which was something different from the band. Hey, I gotta say, this outfit looks pretty good on me, he told himself, gleaming with pleasure. And though this place may not be heaven, it was much better than the outcome he'd expected… unless if this is hell, of course in which this is probably not, considering the multiple mentions of "The Black Parade", and the fact that his father was a decent parent who loved his children. The dark grey sky, the ashes and debris, the marching phantoms, and everything else; they all held a particular beauty within them, something Gerard couldn't describe. Nonetheless, this place looked quite ideal to him, somewhere he'd want to go after death.
"Do you have any questions?" The phantom asked, flashing a considerably good-looking smile that showed his ghostly white teeth.
Gerard hesitated for a moment, then asked with a deep, overcast frown, "Will I ever see Helena again?" He still remembered her eyes from when he's gone. He knew he couldn't always just forget her, but she could try.
The marcher convinced him with an assuring, positive voice, "yes, of course you will see her again. It is not yet her time to join us, but one day, you two will be reunited."
Gerard smiled to himself and sighed with relief, though sadness still broke through his handsome hazel eyes. But then, would anything matter if you're already dead? By now, life was just a dream to him. Plus, he wasn't yet ready to confront her (when she's not pleading him to stay alive, at least), especially when he had already waged a war against the faith she had in him. Oh, all the shit that he's done with that fuck of a gun… she would cry out her eyes all along. Helena, I never told you what I did for a living. "Thank you. No more questions."
Oh, Helena, don't you breathe for me. I'm undeserving of your sympathy, 'cause there ain't no way that I'm sorry for what I did, and… Through it all, how could you cry for me? 'Cause I don't feel bad about it; no, not at all!
Behind the phantom marcher, the band float appeared once more. The marcher turned away to make sure of the float's approach, and turned back, giving Gerard a humble, respectful smile. "Then, Mr. Way, please take your rightful position as the leader of the Black Parade."
Again, the loud rock music drifted from the float; the anthem of the parade sounded so disturbingly familiar to him, even before his first-ever listen inside the cave. Up close, the men on the parade float looked quite familiar… Although at first, he could not recognize the four (who were all engrossed in playing their own instruments), Gerard soon realized with happiness and shock that they were Mikey, Frank, Ray, and an old friend named Bob, who, at the beginning of the Killjoys' formation, sacrificed himself to save Mikey and Ray's lives. As Frank swung his guitar around in a swift movement, he finally saw a dumbfounded Gerard standing there, with his jaw dropped just a bit from surprise. Frank's mouth widened into that familiar, mischievous, childlike, yet warm and welcoming smile. "Mr. Destroya, we're all waiting for ya!" He yelled over the sound of the rock band at Gerard, whose eyes began to brim with tears.
As Gerard, still amazed at the parade's infinite magnificence and overjoyed the reunion with his friends, quickly strode towards the marching band's float, the lyrics of the anthem were silently hummed in his head. Do or die, you'll never make me! Because the world will never take my heart, go and try, you'll never break me! We want it all-
He stepped onto the lead position of the Black Parade, just in time for the anthem's last three words and the final "we wanna play this part" from his harmonies. His heart vigorously pounded in joy and pride, and grabbing the silver microphone that awaits, he boldly chanted with a loud, confident voice:
"We'll carry on!"
The End.
