A muffled commotion bumped against the fuzzy, iron blanket of sleep that laid across his eardrums, over his eyelids, and across his entire body; denying it entrance to his senses. The night had encased him in a blank repose; insulating him from the outside world.
A yelp and a bang nearby brought him hastily to his senses. He blinked his eyes, reeling from the harsh and instantaneous transition from a suspended consciousness to the panic of wakefulness. The sound of running water entered his awareness. He lurched up into a sitting position, sending a jolt through his numb limbs. A pale, yellow line under the door in front of him was the only light in the room.
His lethargic brain, although slow to catch his racing heart, recognized his brother's panic stricken voice beyond the door.
"Mikey," he huffed, as if the sound of his brother's name confirmed that it was him he heard, and launched off the stiff bed.
"Mikey?" he called through the thin door, wobbling slightly from the sudden movement. "Mikey," he called again and steadied himself on the frame, "is something wrong?"
"Uh-huh..." came Mikey Way's feeble response.
Amidst a moderate amount of concern for his little brother, Gerard was not very surprised at his answer. There was hardly anything right in his brother's little world. Gerard has had the fortune of traveling the world with his much beloved brother and doing the thing he loves most in the world: make music. Along with that however, he has had the misfortune of constantly putting out the fires caused by the ill fated luck of his younger sibling. Weather that be an actual fire, finding him when he's lost, or any other number of possible catastrophes, Gerard is always there to save the day. A real hero.
His band mates seem to view him in the same light as his little brother (most of the time). As the band's front man and, essentially, it's backbone, Gerard is the glue that holds the difficult and at times difficult 'family' together.
Every hero has his flaws and Gerard was no exception. He seems to have taken the recent departure of their drummer, Bob Bryar, from the band upon himself. The magazines explain the reason as simply "creative differences" but the true reason is far more complex. It's hardly brought up among the four musicians and often pushed from Gerard's mind.
The power struggle between Gerard and the band's mysterious yet energetic rhythm guitarist Frank made for a rocky beginning. While there relationship is on level ground for the most part, most of the conflict – whether lighthearted or not – seems to be instigated by Frank and his "scrapper" personality.
"Just tell me what's wrong, Mikey," Gerard coached, slicking his black, stringy hair out of his face.
"There's a gross spider in the shower but I don't want to kill it..." Mikey explained.
Gerard sighed, "Why not?"
Michel, the youngest and arguably the most sensitive member of My Chemical Romance was often described as the group's "spiritual adviser". Not because of any religious affiliation but because of his tendency to bring a person back down to earth, so to speak. He had a universal love for everything and everyone. Gerard half expected his reply to reflect the insect's right to life liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
"I'm scared it will jump at me... I left my glasses somewhere..." came Mikey's troubled response and a scuffling within.
Gerard turned to the darkened room and was hit immediately with a wave of confusion. He had no recollection of coming to that room or to checking into a hotel at all. The room was small and had only two beds. It smelled of typical, generic cleaners used in cheap resorts. Floor length curtains were drawn over the one window on the far wall, letting in little to no light. He felt along the wall for a light switch. Finding none, he inched toward the bed and flicked on the weathered lamp between the two beds.
"Where the fuck are we?" croaked Frank from somewhere near the window. Gerard could just see his messy, black hair over the bed. "And, why am I on the floor?" he added.
"I was wondering the same thing..." said Ray from the other end of the room.
A crash from the bathroom.
"Mikey?" Gerard grabbed the handle and charged in. His brother lay in the middle of the floor, completely exposed, rubbing his head as though he'd just fell.
"What are you doing on the floor?" Gerard asked, reaching out his hand and assess the damage simultaneously. He stooped to help him.
The shower curtain was open, the water running. From the floor, he caught a glimpse of something contrastingly black against the white tile. The spider was easily the length of his arm. Bigger then anything he'd ever seen. There was a strange blue, jagged line across the creatures' abdomen. His blood froze with alarm.
Gerard scooped his brothers clothes off the closed toilet and put his arm under Mikeys; wide eyes still locked on the eight-legged creature.
"That is one scary-ass spider..." he mumbled as he began pulling his brother out of the bathroom. He slammed the door and stuffed a pillow under the door, sealing the frightening arachnid inside.
Frank was lighting up a cigarette on the side of one of the twin beds. The scrolling tattoos running up his arms and hands lit up with the orange flame of the lighter. His black hair came to a point in front of his attractive face as he took the white stick between his fingers, brought it to his lips, and drew in a long breath.
Gerard handed handed his brother his clothes then sat beside the smoking guitarist and motioned for a butt. Gerard too was an attractive man, his pale white complexion complimented his refined facial features beautifully. His hazel eyes glowed vacantly with the confusion of their situation.
Mikey wriggled his tall, skinny self back into his tight gray jeans and favorite faded Anthrax tee shirt. There was definite, notable similarity between the Way brothers appearance.
Just then, Ray stood from his chair and crossed the room to the window, smoothing his frizzy afro as he went. He parted the heavy cloth and peered out into the brightening morning, a silver line over his eye. "Holy shit…" he mumbled, slowly backing away from the curtain.
Gerard's eyes narrowed and he stood from the bed and pulled the string attached to a pulley that opened the blinds with a whoosh.
There was a collective gasp shared by the group as they stared in horror at the sight of hundreds of black spiders crawling up the window pane.
"Let's get the fuck out of here," Ray exclaimed.
They hurried down the stairs, jumping two at a time until they came to the shabby lobby of the motel. The carpet was bald from decades of use and the chairs threadbare. A convenience stand and a vending machine occupied the far wall opposite the revolving front door. They made a b-line for the door when they were stopped by a gruff voice.
"Hey."
Gerard turned.
A man sat at the front desk, peering into a flat screen. The man was large and rugged and wore a strange piece of electronic equipment over his left eye.
"I was told to give you boys this," he held out a scrap of folded paper, not turning his eyes from the screen.
Gerard hesitantly approached the desk and took the paper from the man and slowly backed away. It was addressed to each of them and contained a strange card.
Go to Alta Plaza: Commercial Complex, suite 1289 at the Viator Air and Space station. There I can answer some of your questions.
It was signed James Chappell. The name sounded extremely familiar to Gerard but he couldn't understand why. He closed his eyes and narrowed his brow in deep concentration, searching his mind for any recognition of that name.
"What should we do?" Ray whispered.
Gerard opened his eyes and with a sigh replied "Find Alta Plaza, I suppose…"
"The bus for Alta leaves in five minutes…" came the gruff voice of the man at the desk. He slowly turned his head from the screen, revealing an ugly scar across his face. "…but, I wouldn't suggest leaving for Alta without a laser. Them Crawlers been breeding like crazy 'round these parts lately."
"Laser?"
"Mmm. I sell 'em for only 300 cred. Cheepest in Union City," the man motioned to the vending machine on the wall. It was faded white with harsh, black text slashed across the front displaying the name of the company: Glimmer.
Keeping one eye on the man, Gerard stepped in front of the machine. A slot and a key pad appeared on the right side. A metallic voice greeted them, "Good morning, Ranger. Slide your chip to get started."
He looked down at the card in his hand that had been contained in the note. It was almost paper thin but had a small digital readout on the front under which scrolled "Credits". He slid the card in the machine like he was instructed and white front of the machine became transparent, revealing a case full of brightly colored weapons.
"Excuse me," Gerard turned to the man. "We don't have any permits to carry weapons…"
The man began to laugh hard, displaying a mouthful of ugly teeth. "Permits? What do you think this is, 2010?" He continued to laugh, thoroughly amused by Gerard's question. He looked down at the card. The date read 2019. Something in Gerard's stomach dropped and all he could do was stare at the device in his hand.
Frank craned his neck over Gerard's shoulder, "2019? What is this... Some kind of joke?", he whispered skeptically.
"Your session with Glimmer Convenience Station is about to expire. Press OK to continue shopping." The tinny voice of the vending machine brought Gerard back to his senses. The machine began counting down from ten. He pressed the OK button on the key pad and peered into the case. There were rows and rows of weapons ranging from knives to grenades to guns. His eyes scanned the row that said "lasers". Each colored firearm obviously had a different quality but he couldn't tell the difference – they all looked like water guns to him. He chose four for each member of the band and selected "Finish and Pay".
"Your total is twelve hundred credits. Have a dangerous day, Ranger." The machine returned to normal and the case disappeared behind the white and black front. Four brightly colored weapons dropped from the shoot. Gerard passed the weapons around to the group and stepped to the front window. Peering cautiously outside for any "Crawlers" and seeing none, he glanced at the old man.
"Aahh, those bugs'll be all 'near gone now. But t'night – T'night they'll be back..."
The man at the desk was still chuckling to himself as the group headed for the door.
"Have a dangerous day, fellas'," he called.
Outside, the terrain was dusty and dry. Gerard looked in every direction and saw nothing but red desert rock riddled with sage bushes. He holstered his gun in the front of his jeans and started walking for the weathered sign by the road that read "Bus stop". The silver horizon sparked with a golden glow of sunlight.
"Gerard, what the fuck are we doing?" Frank sounded panicked. "None of this makes sense…"
"Yeah… I don't remember anything before this morning…" Mikey said quietly.
"What are we gonna' do?" Frank asked again.
"Survive."