The year is 2042. 16 year old Hannah meets 63 year old Gerard Way, going through many surprises and misfortunes together as he teaches her the many lessons of life.
The street was busy, and hot like an oven. Tall metal buildings loomed over Ray as he wandered the streets of New York in his scruffy black and white pair of converse all stars. Ray was 60 years old. He had no idea where he was.
"Granpa!" A sudden voice cried out, as a young 16 year old girl burst through the crowds of people in front of him. "There you are; we were so worried!"
"Hannah?" Ray croaked, squinting his eyes at her.
"Yes, yes, it's me!" Hannah said, flustered. "Granpa, you're not supposed to go out, not with amnesia as bad as yours..." She trailed off, noticing a crowd had gathered, intent on knowing what all the shouting was about. "C'mon, Granpa." She pulled him away from the crowd, and up to a black, expensive-looking car.
A man who looked to be in his early thirties wound down the window of the car. He had black curly hair, and deep brown eyes. "Dad?"
"James!" Ray cried, upon seeing his son. "I haven't seen you in ages, James!"
James bit his lip. "Dad, I saw you just this morning..." He turned to Hannah. "Get him in the car, please honey."
Hannah nodded gravely. "Yes Dad." She turned to grey-haired Ray. "C'mon, Granpa..." She murmured as she opened the back door and coaxed him in. Once inside, she did his seat belt up, then got into the car next to him.
"All ready?" Came the voice of the short, dark haired, woman sitting next to James.
"Yes, Mom." Replied Hannah.
"Yes, Lily." Smiled Ray.
James started the car, and so began the short ride home. Lily, James and Ray chatted amongst themselves, while Hannah sat in the back with a deep frown. She was worried about her Granpa, the man who had bought her her first guitar, the man who had always been there for her...
Without warning, the steady hum of the engine stopped, and the car rolled forward a few meters before coming to a complete standstill. Horns honked angrily behind them, and a few people shouted profanities.
"Shit. Looks like we're out of gas..." James murmured.
"James! You shouldn't use that sort of language!" Ray shouted. "You're only a child for gods sake!"
James sighed and turned to his daughter. "Can you pop down to the gas station and buy a can of petrol, dear? And be quick, your Granpa is working himself up into a state again ."
Hannah nodded and forced a smile. She took the money from her Father's outstretched hand and quickly got out of the car. She had to run several blocks before she reached the gas station, and was out of breath when she finally got there. The kid behind the counter looked bored, he had acne covering his face and wore thick rimmed glasses. Hannah quickly paid for her can of petrol, and made her way out of the shop. She ran as fast as she possibly could to get back, and it was only after about 10 minutes of running did she realise that she was completely and utterly lost.
Hannah looked around. She'd never been to this part of New York before, it was grimy and dirty and disgusting. Rats ran over the pavement, and everything sank of sewage. She walked down a cobble stone alley, kicking a few stones here and there, until she heard footsteps behind her. She quickened her pace, but as she did so, the footsteps behind her copied. Hannah didn't dare to look behind her, and she felt her breath quicken and pulse race. She wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead and sneaked a look behind her. She didn't see anything at first, but after she had stopped and looked properly, a dark male figure emerged from the darkness. "Shit." She thought aloud.
The figure walked towards her slowly, as Hannah backed away towards the wall. The man laughed sharply and pointed a finger at her. "Come here, darlin'. I'm Connor. Let's get to know each other a little better..."
Hannah shook her head quickly, and felt her back hit a wall behind her. Her lip trembled, and tears ran down her cheeks. "P-Please..."
All of a sudden, a clear voice rang out. It was slightly nasal, but determined and powerful all the same. "Get your fuckin' hands off that girl."
Both Hannah and Connor turned to the sound of the voice. At the end of the alley, stood a black-clad man, with a wise, ageless face and glossy hazel eyes. His black, but greying hair was scraggly, and reached the nape of his neck, and he held a calm authority that left Hannah open-mouthed. "What you gon' fuckin' do about it, huh, old man?" Shouted Connor.
The black-clad man growled and stalked forwards, lifting his jacket slightly to reveal a Glock 17 pistol. Corror took a step back and lifted his hands in surrender. "A-Alright, dude, just messin' around..." And with that, Connor fled the scene. Hannah and the black-clad man watched him go, him chuckling slightly, and Hannah shaking profusely.
The man turned to Hannah and smiled. "It's okay, honey. Not loaded, see?" he took the pistol out of his belt and demonstrated.
When the gun did not fire, Hannah took a step forward shakily. "Th-Thank you..."
The man only smiled. "S'okay, Hun. You shouldn't be roaming these streets alone, ya'know. This is a real bad street." He held his hand out to Hannah. "Name's Gerard. Gerard Way."