Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Help Wanted... Again

First Part

by MCRmySoldier6 2 Reviews

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Horror - Characters: Bob Bryar,Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2011/11/22 - Updated: 2011/11/23 - 1236 words

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“Stand up fucking tall, don’t let them see your back, and take my fucking hand and never be afraid again!” –Our Lady of Sorrows by My Chemical Romance.


“Look. Dead is dead. I did the job you wanted! Now pay up!” I said impatiently to the man in front of me. “You didn’t make him suffer! He didn’t feel the-” “Pain you felt. Yeah, I heard the first time. click Now pay up before I blow your face off.” I pointed the gun directly at his face. His eyes went wide, and fumbled for his wallet. “With interest!” I said with my cigarette in my mouth, I pulled my lighter out and lit up. He shakily thrust the money and ran out of the dark alleyway. I smiled and flicked through the floppy bills. 300, 320, 340… Yep. All there. I smirked and stepped further into the alley, into the ‘hood’. “Hey. You. You Even?” A husky voice said from the dark. I stopped, pulled out my cigarette, and said “Depends. Who’s askin’?” With a mouthful of smoke. “I wanna man dead. How much is it gonna cost?” “Slow and painful, or, Short and easy?” I said, turning in the direction of the voice. “Slow.” “400.” I said, raising the price 60 bucks. “Dollars?” He questioned. “No, Waffles! Dipshit! OF COURSE DOLLARS!” I shouted. “Okay.. Okay!” I outstretched my hand into the darkness, where my eyes adjusted to a shadowy frame of a burly man. “Now? What if you don’t do the job?” “Look. I’ve been stiffed before. I kill the guy, and then I can’t find you again. Pay up.” I said, I made sure my gun was still in my belt. He sighed, and pulled out his wallet, and thrust me the heavy dollars. I smirked, and counted the dollars. “Who’s the guy?” I said, taking a deep drag of my cigarette. “His name’s Erin Sakes. Real douche, He lives up there.” He pointed to a window on the third floor of the apartment building. “What’s the deal with him?” “Took my wife from me… I want him to feel the-” “Pain you felt. Got it from the last guy. I got it.” I stamped out my cigarette butt, and pulled my gloves on straight. I looked back at the guy, and sarcastically said, “I need to know. You really want him dead? ‘Cause you don’t know how many guys say they want a guy dead, and once the deed’s done, they regret it more than anything and blah… blah… blah…” He simply nodded his head, and I shrugged and then began to climb up the wall. I was about ten feet up, or so, when my boot slipped, and my arms felt ready to fall out of their sockets. “Dammit!” I yelped, with a groan I pulled my self onto the next balcony. I stepped onto the balcony rail, and jumped, so I could get a grip on the railing above me. With a groan, I pulled myself onto that balcony. I quickly stood up, pulled my bloodstained shirt over my mouth and nose, and kicked in the glass sliding door. A man screamed and I heard shuffling. Once I could see properly, I looked at the man who stood in front of me. He had greasy black hair, a 5 o’clock shadow, and greasy skin. He was in his boxers with his pants around his ankles. “Did I interrupt something?” I said sarcastically. “I was taking a crap! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” He yelled, then he clicked on a light. “O-Oh my lord… Y-You’re… her. Please, I’m begging you… Don’t kill me! Please! I have so much to live for!” He pleaded, his voice dripping with panic. “You’ve obviously never tried to negotiate with a hit man. Here’s a hint. Buy me out. If you pay more than my employer, I’ll let you live.” I smirked, pulling my gun out of my belt, a bullet out of my pocket, and loading. I pulled back the hammer, and aimed it at his heart. He began weeping. “How much?” He sobbed. “Well, I was just paid 400.” He sobbed even more, hiccoughing he went through a wallet. “I-I only have 380… But please, I’ll do anything… I’ll give you a place to stay, I’ll pay you as soon as I get anything.” He got on his knees and looked up to me. I felt my insides twist. I hated this part. As I looked into his eyes, I knew I couldn’t do it. I sighed, and turned back to the door. Glass crunched underneath my boots, and the man began sobbing again. “Thank you! Oh my god… Thank you!” “I was never here.” I said, shortly, I stepped out onto his terrace and began climbing down. “Was he asleep? I didn’t hear a scream.” I walked to the voice, pointed my gun, and pulled the trigger. And with a bang and a scream, a body fell to the ground. Once he stopped twitching, I kicked his body till it turned over, and bent down and began going through his pockets. I found a package of Marlboro Reds, half empty in his right pocket, and in his left, a wallet. Identifying him as Carl Bolorano, and only about three bucks. You disgust me. I thought to myself. Going through a dead man’s wallet. Have the courtesy to bury him. I pushed the voice away, pulled the hoodie I used to hide the bloodstains, and walked out of the alleyway. People rushed by, the moon was hiding behind clouds that threatened to rain. I went down the street, and into the alleyway, where an old bar stood. The man at the door stopped me and said, “Sorry, ma’am, 21 and older.” I pulled my hood down, and looked up at him. He stepped away from the door, and pushed it open for me. I saw heads turn, and pool games stop in their tracks as I walked in. I walked to the back where his office was. As soon as I shut the door, I heard the clack of pool games resuming. His chair was turned from the door, facing out the window. “Ms. Tanner, I expected you here earlier.” He said, his Italian accent thick as he spoke. He turned to face me, and I walked forward and pulled out the $740 I had made today. “This is all I made tonight.” He took the bills, and counted. “You’re short. The deal was 1,000 a day.” I knew I should’ve mugged someone. “I know sir, I’ll get the difference tomorrow.” I said, detecting movement behind me. He had backup tonight. “Ah, Frank… You’re just in time… How much does Ms. Tanner owe us now?” Mr. Alorne said looking past me. My breathing quickened. “Over a thousand, sir.” “Now, Ms. Tanner… You’re standing at a fork in the road. You can give me the money tomorrow with a job I have for you, or Frank’ll get it from you.” “What’s the job?” “Kill a local band. I had a client come in and ask me, but since you weren’t here like you were supposed to…” “What’s the band?” I said, desperate for the job. “My Chemical Romance.”
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