Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Haru and the Kobra Kid

Confessions and Anger

by Unicorns-are-real 7 Reviews

Haru is having some strange thoughts...

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG - Genres: Angst,Sci-fi - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2012/01/07 - Updated: 2012/01/07 - 2701 words

<<
>>
Hey guys,
I'm so so sorry it took so long to update... I had severe writer's block but now I'm back on track with this and I really hope you enjoy the chapter ;)
By the way, congratulations to MCRkilljoy who will be playing Haru's friend- you'll be in the next chapter :)

Love,
- Sara xoxo


Confessions and Anger


Haru grunted as she hauled the unconscious Kobra Kid into the hallway, quickly shutting the door. She felt numb. Why was she doing this?
Before she could think of an answer she was already pulling the man once more, grasping his shirt with a knuckle white grip and gritting her teeth. He had lost consciousness again after trying to get to his feet, crumpling heavily back onto the threshold. She dragged him to the stairs, his limp body thumping on each board.

“Come on, you heavy son-of-a...” She growled.

Her back ached and her palms were slicked with sweat and pulsating with pain. It was a relief to get to the top of the steps. She released her hold and winced as he hit the floor with a sickening thud. She leaned down and pressed her fingers to his throat, feeling for a pulse.

She just about found one.

Wiping her hands on her trousers, she clutched at his shoulders again, trying not to cringe at the sweat drenched material he was wearing.

“What am I doing?” She asked herself. She really didn’t have a clue as to why she was helping him. He was a Killjoy for crying out loud. He was scum, filth that needed to be disposed of. He was a person the world would be better off without, that was for sure.
Then why was she doing this? Was she going insane? Had she been possessed by deamons? Or had she simply lost her mind?

From underneath her, Kobra whimpered softly. She snapped back to reality, her eyes surveying his face. Although he was unconscious, his face was restless, his mouth a tight line and his brow furrowed deeply. A sheen of perspiration was slick on his face and, to her surprise, she found a hand, her hand, stroking along his forehead and her mouth shushing him soothingly. Then, she realised what she was doing and snatched her palm away in disgust. Kobra moaned and twisted his head slightly, as if he missed the contact.

Her brain was a daze and something gnawed away in the pit of her stomach but she forced it out of her mind and began tugging the man’s dead weight across the landing. She reached the spare room far too quickly for her liking. Why hadn’t she killed him yet? Why wasn’t she mounting the red gun on the wall? Why was his jacket left, forgotten on the floor, rather than being strung up like a flag?

Why was she helping him?

“If I knew, I would answer that...” She muttered, placing him swiftly down to nudge the door open then racing back to his side to manoeuvre him into the room.

The bed was the difficult part. Haru groaned out loud but got on with it nevertheless.
He was heavy, so, so heavy. His body was like a pile of lead in her arms. She started with the top half, hauling his torso onto the ragged mattress, and then moved onto the bottom half. She looped her arms under his hips and pulled, lifting him fully on the bed. How much did this guy weigh? she thought as he sunk into the mattress. She checked him over. The bloodied patch had got bigger. He was bleeding again.

Haru reached under the bed frame and tugged out a box. She flicked the clasps open and the contents of a surgeon’s tools and medical supplies beamed up at her. She pulled a set of latex gloves over her hands and delved inside, withdrawing a set of scissors. She stood up and put the box by Kobra’s feet and raised the scissors to meet his chest.

She could have stabbed him- it was a perfect moment- and for a second she was poised, ready to do it. The blades were angled, all she had to do was press down and-

And then the beast gnawing at her stomach reared its ugly head and she found herself staring at Kobra’s face once more. His eyes moved rapidly under their lids and he breathed in and out harshly. And for a second, that was the only sound in the entire house. The blades were close, a centimetre away, hovering in a shaky hand.

Do it! Her mind screamed, Do it!

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it. The monster in her belly bit down hard and she pulled away, took the hem of his shirt and started snipping away.

The fabric was quick to cut and she felt sorry for being the one to cut it up; she actually quite liked that shirt. She’d stripped the shirt completely off, exposing his chest and arms. Sore patches of sunburn marred his neck and shoulders, and the wound in his stomach looked even more sickening than before. She had took an antiseptic wipe in her hand and tried to reach around to it but it was too awkward. She flushed hotly as she realised she would have to remove his jeans too.

Kobra whined and shifted feebly on the bed, making Haru feel instantly guilty for being so childish. She fumbled with the button for a moment then the zip.

“Thank God you’re wearing boxers.” She grunted, and folded the top of the denim down before swiftly moving back to the shot wound. She wiped around the tear with the softest pressure she could manage. Kobra didn’t even stir. Good. This was good. If she could fix him up without him waking and leave him where Party could find him, then this would be over. She could pretend it never happened, go and hunt some other Killjoys for a few months and go back to hunting Party and co when she thought Kobra could stand a chance.
She trotted off down the stairs and into the kitchen, searching through her bag wildly and grabbed her notepad and a pen. She scrawled a message onto the paper.

Party Poison,
I have Kobra Kid. Meet me at the old farm in Zone 5 Saturday night when the sky turns green and we can sort this out. Come alone.
Haru Simians


She knew Party would be angry at her, furious in fact, and that he would most probably kill her but she had to try. She had to make him listen. She ran back up the stairs to Kobra who still hadn’t moved an inch. Good. Good.
She lay some wadding across his stomach and pulled a dusty old blanket over to keep him warm. She switched off the lights and locked the front door before racing out the back. She locked that too and pounced onto her bike.
The last time she saw the Death Machine it was in Zone four.
That’s where she was headed.
***************

When Party Poison woke up, something didn’t feel right.
Fun was still snoozing lightly across his legs and Jet and Kobra were still missing. Party’s heart felt as though it had been twisted, he swallowed. Kobra.
But that wasn’t it. Something was out of place. He snatched his legs from under Fun’s head and got up. Fun hit the floor with a thud, muttered something about squirrels, giggled a bit, then fell back to sleep with loud snores.

Party spun around, hand hovering over his gun and his eyes watching. Nothing had changed. The sky was still a murky blue and the dust below his feet was kicked up by the slight breeze. Nevertheless, something was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and making him chew his lip nervously. Party was scared now; nothing could set him on edge like this- not even Korse. Then realisation kicked in; what if it wasn’t something, but someone?

His heart picked up a pace, Bah-bump bah-bump bah-bump.

He nudged Fun with his foot, “Up, now.” He ordered. Fun smiled drunkenly and started raking the air with clawed fingers, ‘Ha-ha... acooooornnns...’ He slurred.

Party kicked him.

Hard.

“OWWWW!” Fun Ghoul howled and clutched at his chest tightly, wheezing. “What was that for?”

“Get up. Something’s not right here.”

Fun Ghoul looked around as far as he could with confusion on his face, “I can’t...see...any...thing...” He gasped.

“Hmph,” Party snorted, dissatisfied but pulled his burning gaze away to look at Fun, “We’re leaving. Radio Jet and tell him we’ll meet him at Sabbath’s place.”
Fun snickered, “There’s nothing out here amigo, just sky an’ desert as far as the eye can see; nothin’ will find us here, ‘kay?” He uncurled himself and sprawled out onto the ground, a mellow smile on his face. “You need to chill out, Poison. It’s not as if Korse is gonna come all the way out here, is it? Just chill, we don’t need to go anywhere anytime soon.”

A faint rustle shook a nearby bush and Party spun, shooting erratically. A jackal rabbit squeaked and skittered from under the brush, darting off for cover. Fun tutted and rolled his eyes, “Whatever...” he muttered before letting his eyes slide shut once more. Party clenched his fists then splayed his fingers and slotted his gun into his holster. He began to pace over and over, his eyes still shifting over everything. The hairs on the back of his neck were still stood on end slightly, as though they could sense something was there. He kept looking back over his shoulder, paranoia curdling in his chest. He shook his head. “No, Fun’s right,” He said to himself, “You’re being stupid; too much stress, that’s all. There’s nothin’ out here.”
He rammed a knuckle into his mouth and chewed on it out of habit. He began to feel calmer and just focused on biting away. He walked over to the Death Machine, finger still in his mouth, in search for a cigarette when a flutter of paper caught his eye. It was wedged between the windscreen and the wipers, the wind jostling it gently. Party stared at it for a long moment then reached out gingerly to tug it free. It was folded in half lopsidedly as though it was done in a hurry and black inked writing could be seen through it. Party flipped it open and started to read;

Party Poison,
I have Kobra Kid. Meet me at the old farm in Zone 5 Saturday night when the sky turns green and we can sort this out. Come alone.
Haru Simians


And then underneath, in more of a scrawl, there was an afterthought;

P.s- Your car was running low on gas so I topped it up. There’s enough to get you to the farm and as far away as you need to go. I left the rest of the gas can in the trunk- you left it unlocked- and I left you some food and drink and some clean clothes. I know what you’re thinking; they aren’t bugged. Or poisoned. See you Saturday.

Party stared blankly at the note for a few seconds, the words still spinning in his head and he could see them floating in big letters before his eyes, I have Kobra Kid... I have KOBRA Kid... I HAVE KOBRA KID... A red mist fell in front of his vision and his hands curled into tight fists, his knuckles turning white and the paper crumpling beneath his grasp. A moment of pure blind rage enveloped him and he punched the closest thing to him. The bonnet of the Death Machine whined as Party pummelled it, using only his anger to create a massive dent in the metal. His fingers ached and his knuckles bled but he didn’t stop until he could do it no more. He collapsed onto the car, supported up by the roof and hid his face with the crease of his elbow. The letter was still grasped in one hand, the paper spattered with blood from his cut knuckles.

“Gerard!” Fun cried-not bothering to use Gerard’s cover name- as he ran over, worry etched into his face and desert dust swirling around him. “Gerard!” He said again, and this time Party felt a warm calloused hand touch his arm. Party moaned, not even raising his head. “What’s wrong? Gerard, what’s wrong?” Fun asked, shaking his arm a little, “Please Gerard, tell me!”

“She has him,” Party groaned, his forehead pressed against the cool metal of the car. Suddenly, fingers slid under his neck and his head was pulled up slightly to meet Fun’s face. Concern sparkled in his brown eyes as he looked his best friend over. Without any warning, he released Party’s head and spun him round to snatch up his hand. “You’re bleeding,” He said simply and rubbed a thumb along the torn skin. Party winced and focused on the tattoos on Fun’s arms as Fun pulled his fingers straight, “Does that hurt?” He asked and Party nodded. Fun held out a finger to Party, “Grab it and hold it as tight as you can.” He ordered.

Party took his finger but couldn’t hold it as tight as normal, “I can’t,” he said, “It hurts.”
“Do this,” Fun said, holding out his palm and bending all of his fingers before straightening them again. Party copied but cried out when he went to bend his fingers. Fun sighed, “You’ve broken them... What possessed you to break your hand Party?”

Party didn’t say anything, just held out the note. Fun frowned and took it from him, looking at the expression on Party’s face for a moment before reading.

Fun went pale, his eyes hardened and his mouth was stretched into a tight line. He nodded stiffly and bit his lower lip, “Well,” He said dryly, “At least we know where your brother is.” Then, dangerously calm, he folded the note and pressed it into Party’s good hand, “Let’s go find that food and those clothes, eh?” He said, disappearing behind the Death Machine to pull the trunk up. Party hiccoughed suddenly and, to his surprise, found himself on the brink of tears. He grimaced and rubbed his eyes dry on the sleeve of his jacket forcefully; he wouldn’t cry, he was Party Poison now and Party Poison doesn’t cry.

Fun popped his head around, his shirt in one hand whilst the other rubbed a sore patch of sunburn on his collar bone. He didn’t say anything, just looked, before dipping behind again and returning with a bundle of clothes in his arms. He set them down on the roof of the Death Machine turned to Party and looked at his swollen up hand, “Need help getting dressed?” He asked, pulling a shirt out of the pile.

The shirt was a brilliant white with red stitching that lined the collar, sleeves and hem neatly. It must have been very expensive; getting clothes of that quality were hard to come by these days. Party just stood, his gaze fixated on the ground below as Fun pulled off his jacket and dressed him. “There,” he smiled weakly, “You look so much better now.” Party tore his gaze to look at his reflection in the black tinted window of the car. Fun was right; he did look a lot better. His red hair collided just right with the white and it picked out the redness of the stitches beautifully. “I’ll pass on my shirt for now,” Fun said, as he took a water bottle out of the trunk, and tipped it over his head, “Bloody hell it’s warm.” Party flashed a small smile; he liked it when Fun made him feel better.
<<
>>
Log in to rate and review this story

Log in!




Register Lost password

Filter

You won't see stories with a lower score when you browse or search. Log in to adjust filter.
0

 

Featured Story

Site Stats

  • Authors: 600103
  • Stories: 40299

Recent Stories