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

People can't change

by Unicorns-are-real 3 reviews

They just can't... can they? (re-posted)

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Sci-fi - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way,Ray Toro - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2012-02-13 - Updated: 2012-02-14 - 2450 words

People Can't Change

Party Poison closed his eyes, pressed his head against the coolness of the window. His hand throbbed, but compared to the pain of his heart it was nothing. Fun spared a glance from the driver’s seat, “You ain’t gonna pass out, are you?”

Party shook his head and opened his eyes to see the whirl of orange and browns that blurred past. He shut them tightly again in an attempt not to be sick. Haru had his brother; God knows what she had done to him. Disturbing visions of Kobra’s torture swept into the darkness, his eyes snapped open again and he felt the thickness of vomit creep up his throat. He gagged and swallowed, making his nose and mouth burn.

He locked his gaze on Fun to take his mind off the desert that streaked past and bent the fingers of his broken hand, hissing as the bones creaked and groaned- the pain reminded him that this was all real. His hazel eyes traced Fun Ghoul, his face, his body, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel.

Fun had been his best friend since... since forever. Always had Party viewed Fun as more than a friend... more as a brother perhaps? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that he would give his life for him, and he was sure Fun would do exactly the same.

“Party, Fun, anyone there?”

It was Jet Star.

Fun picked up the radio, “FG here, what’s up?” Party, uncaring of the conversation, kicked up his feet onto the dashboard and lulled himself to sleep. Fun glanced warily at him before swiftly connecting a headset to the transmitter.

“We’re just checking your co-ordinates, Fun.” Jet’s voice crackled into the receiver and Fun brought his wrist up to look at his Tracker. The Tracker was designed for maps, co-ordination and navigation and one Killjoy in a group of four was assigned to have one in order to keep group members together.

“Err... twenty two, fifty three. We’re not that far now.”

“Good, how’s everyone holding up? Did everyone find each other, after the split?”

Fun winced and lowered his voice, “Kobra isn’t with us.”

“Shit. Wh-what happened?”

Ghoul sighed, “I’ll tell you when we get there... where’s Sabbath?”

“Sabbath? Oh, he’s out back waiting for you two to show up.”

“Tell him to have a medicine kit on hand and a bed set up.”

Immediately, Jet’s voice became worried, “Oh God, are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine- nothing a long sleep and a hot can of PowerPup can’t cure- it’s Party.”

“What’s wrong? Has he been shot?”

“He isn’t shot, but he’s a bit shaken up, both mentally and physically. He just found out that he’ll probably never see his brother again, Jet, I think he needs to rest.”

“And the physical damage?”

“He broke his hand.”


Haru watched Kobra from the far corner of the room. Her heart thudded loudly, blood rushing in her ears. He was quiet, chest rising and falling in a stiff but steady rhythm. She hadn’t killed him or even bothered to shackle him. She just watched. She had placed his jacket, freshly cleaned at the foot of the bed and changed the dressings around his stomach every three hours; she’d barely slept. A clean change of clothing awaited him in the wardrobe, and she’d given him extra pillows- everything to keep him comfortable. But the question still lingered in the air: Why? Why had she gone to all this trouble to help a scumbag like him, some one who wouldn’t even appreciate what she had done for him?

He moaned softly and she leaned forward slightly, staring at him as if he were a new and exotic creature. His eyelids fluttered.

“Wake up,” She whispered, urging him.

His hands clenched, unclenched, feeling around the fabric of the bed covers shakily. He grunted and his eyes flicked open, before blinking repeatedly.

Haru watched, letting him adjust before he saw her. She knew exactly how he would react; he’d panic and hurt himself even more. And, for some reason, Haru didn’t want to see him hurt again. He shifted slightly on the mattress, murmuring gently before he clutched his stomach and whimpered, “Party?” He cried and Haru listened to the voice, deep, smooth and so, so full of pain and fear. She wondered if Party had cried out for Kobra like this when she had shot him.
She tried to press down the urge to leap to his side.

“Party?!” Kobra wailed, desperate, trying to pull up the bandages on his stomach. Haru gave in,

“Kobra,” She said and jumped as he suddenly snapped his head to face her. His hazel eyes were wild, terrified, like a cornered animal.

“Oh God! Get away from me!” He started backing up to the head of the bed, he looked down at himself, “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CLOTHES?!”

“Calm down, please! I’m trying to help!”

He snatched something off the bedside cabinet.

The scalpel.

Haru cursed, mentally scolding herself for leaving the equipment out where he could get it. He held it threateningly in one hand as the other pressed against the bandages that were starting to bloom with red splodges. “You come near me and I’ll fucking kill you, understand?” Haru slowly felt for her gun.

It wasn’t there.

She put her hands up, a sign of surrender, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. They were so angry, so scared.

“Let me explain,” She breathed. The scalpel didn’t waver.

“You’d better,” Kobra hissed, his mouth drawn back in a snarl and the muscles in his arm clenched. Haru’s heart pounded, slamming relentlessly against her ribcage.

“Please, you’re hurt,” She whispered.

Kobra laughed, “Oh, you’d like me to think that wouldn’t you? Don’t act innocent; what have you done to me?”

Panic built up in her body, numbed her limbs so she could neither run nor fight. Her voice was caught up in her throat and she opened and closed her mouth without saying any words whatsoever. Suddenly, Kobra howled in pain and doubled over, grabbing at his stomach. The scalpel clattered to the floor loudly. Haru seized her chance.

She approached him warily, each footstep deliberately slow and stern. “Oh God, it hurts!” Kobra wailed, choking back on tears. She reached out; put a hand on his shoulder. He spun round abruptly, a fist raised to strike her. She caught it in her hand and locked eyes,

“Let me help.”

To her surprise, Kobra nodded. She pushed him down and, though he was reluctant at first, he gave in and let her. She took the scissors from under the bed and leaned in to cut when Kobra grabbed her wrist, “Don’t even think about it.” He growled. Haru tugged and snatched her arm away,

“You have been here for sixteen hours, if I didn’t kill you then why would I now?” She spat. Kobra stared, “So here’s the way it’s gonna go Killjoy; you’re gonna lie there like a good little boy while I fix you up. And if you do anything, anything, to annoy me, these scissors will be cutting more than that bandage, got it?”

Kobra swallowed dryly and lay back, watching her cautiously. Haru started cutting the fabric.

“You kill people,” he said.

“Way to state the obvious,” Haru muttered.

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“I’m not here to play Twenty Questions,” She grunted, pulling away more of the bandage.

“Then what are you here for?”

“To take you back to Party, safe and sound.”

“Party spoke to you?”


“Then why did you say that-“

“I liked you better when you were asleep.”

“I’ve never liked you.”

Haru removed the last of the fabric, “I never asked you to.”

Kobra looked down at the scarlet line of stitches on his stomach, “How the fuck-?”

Haru pulled some strong smelling antiseptic from out of the First Aid Box, “You tell me. You were the one who passed out on my doorstep.” She began dabbing the liquid carefully over the wound. Kobra hissed through clenched teeth.

“I remember running, I was running and-and something hit me and it hurt... and-and then I woke up here.” He managed to say.

Haru pulled away, inspecting the stitches, “They should hold,” She said, “As long as you’re careful the cut will heal within five days. You’ll have a massive scar though.”

“I’ll live,” he grimaced.

Haru smiled, “Good to hear that, soldier. Now, let’s get you some clothes, yeah?”


Kobra rubbed his face down with cold water. Boy, it felt good to be clean again. He cupped his hands under the tap and lapped it up, it was sweet and fresh. There was a knock at the door, “Are you okay in there?” Haru called.

“I’m fine,” He replied, annoyed that he’d only been in the restroom for five minutes and that this was the twentieth time she’d asked him if he was alright.

“I’ve left you some clothes in the kitchen, I was going to bring them up to you but my hands are pretty full. Meet me outside after you’re dressed, we’ve got a long ride.” He heard her footsteps get quieter as she left the house, finally being cut off by the slam of a door. Kobra dried his face with a warm towel before wrapping it around his middle and leaving the bathroom.

The sun outside was hot and brilliant shafts of its light beamed through the windows. He glanced out at the desert beyond and for a moment wondered where Party was and what he was doing. Was he looking for his brother at all or had he ran into Korse? He turned to go down the stairs when a black shape on the horizon caught his attention; he stared at it and instantly wished he’d never saw it. Battery City, the place where even the most foolproof of dreams were crushed. Maybe Bob had escaped from there, heroically fought his way to freedom, or maybe he was brainwashed like everyone else- a shell of a person he used to be. Kobra bit his lip, maybe, one day, he and Bob would find each other again.

What a farfetched day that seemed to be.

He shook his head clear. Think positive, he noted, perhaps Haru isn’t everything everyone thought she was.


Kobra walked down the steps, leaning on the banister for support, and padded into the kitchen. The clothes lay, folded neatly on top of the cabinet. He picked them up and slipped them on. The boots fit perfectly and the fabric of the shirt was soft against his angry wound, but where was his jacket and gun? He mooched around the kitchen for a while, searching, when he noticed it by the doorway of what appeared to be a sitting room. He smiled to himself and went to pick it up when a flash of colour made him look up.

He gasped and fell back but managed to catch himself on the doorframe. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing.

Row upon row upon row of guns were nailed to the wall- all of them belonging to either a Killjoy he knew or had heard about. He got shakily to his feet, and walked to where the most hideous part of display stood.

It was a board, like the kind to put animal heads on for decoration. Kobra reached out and traced the lettering of the small plaque underneath: ‘Party Poison’.


Korse smacked the girl’s head off the wall. She screamed in terror and agony and it reverberated around the room, “I asked you to tell me where they are, bitch!” He roared and kicked her. She screeched and tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her head and brought his knee to her face. Korse pulled out a gun, pressed it to her head, “Tell me. Now.”

She was sobbing hysterically, unable to control her breathing. Her nose was bleeding and her forehead almost black with bruises. Another girl sobbed in the corner, shackled to a chair with another Killjoy- a boy- next to her. The boy had his eyes closed, refusing to watch, and the girl hid behind her blue hair and cried.

“I’m just asking for co-ordinates!” Korse barked, his temper rising and he pressed the nose of the gun harder against the pink haired girl’s head.

“I don’t know!” She squealed, “I don’t know the co-ordinates!”

“You’ve got ten seconds to think about it. One... two... three...”

“Oh for shit’s sake, just tell him Rocket!” The blue haired girl screamed, “I don’t want to see you die.”

“I can’t!” Rocket sobbed, “I won’t break a promise.”

“Well, I didn’t promise shit!” The blue haired girl shouted, “Party’s hideout is fifty three, eighty seven.”

“No!” gasped Rocket.

“Rocket, he can look after himself. They all can.” She turned to Korse, “Now let us go! We told you what you want, so let us go!”

Korse smirked, “You really think it’s that easy? Really? How can I be certain that you’re not lying to me?”

“I’m not lying, I swear!”

“Swear on what?”

The blue haired girl met his gaze coldly, “I swear on Rocket’s and Tornado’s lives that I am not lying.”

“I’m so glad you said that,” Korse snickered and fired the gun, shooting Rocket through the head. Tornado and the girl screamed as she fell silent, her eyes closed and head smoking. He turned and, with deadly accuracy, blasted him through the chest. He fell limp.

“You sick bastard!” She screamed, “You promised to let us go!”

“You were the one who swore on their lives, if you aren’t lying then your friends will not have died in vain.”

“You sick dickhead,” She growled and Korse smiled.

“Let’s get you bound up. It’s going to be such fun. I just know it.”

The blue haired girl slumped in her chair.

Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been seriously busy :/ I will be updating as often as I can from now on. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter because things are going to kick off in the next chapter ;)
R&R please :)
- Sara xoxo
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