Frank picked a very bad night to go outside.
Here is the story you have all been waiting for!
I know that the beginning is a bit confusing, but I will explain it all in later chapters.
I have had this idea floating in my head for about a year now – I just now was able to float it into words. I have had a lot of ideas for different titles; like I wanted to call it Jesus of Suburbia, then I wanted to call it One Flew over the Sanity Bin. I had many other ideas too, but I settled on the Thursday.
Excuse me if anything is offensive - but this whole story is kind of offensive, so deal with it.
“You see the way that bitch’s head exploded?”
It’s around ten, on a lonely Friday night. Frank has nothing to do. Really, ever. Normally, Frank just sits at home, watch TV, reads a book, or jerk off. Frank hasn’t got laid in five months. He used to be a big party animal, but now, he’s older.
His usual routine has gotten old, and boring. He wants change. But, sadly, change means to either go hang out with Ray and snog cats, or hang out with Bob and yell at the television because they have a Hispanic channel, they have a gay channel, they have a Black channel, and they have another gay channel (Fox) but no Asian channel or white channel. Frank tells him
“There is a white channel! It’s called ESPN and comedy central!” But Bob would deny that the Comedy central is for horny teenagers and rednecks.
That’s why he doesn’t go over to Bob or Ray’s house anymore. He certainly will not go over to Brian’s because Brian is his boss. That would be very weird. Frank works at Starbucks. He miserably serves coffee there to hipsters, old people, and creepy men in shorts. Frank can honestly say that he hates his job. He hates his life.
So, it’s a Friday night, and Frank needs to do something other than, well, nothing. He picks up his black hoodie and storms out the door of his apartment into the cool New Jersey air. The streets are pitch black already. Only a few bar hoppers wonder the road.
Frank normally walks down one road. (Whenever he does walk, this is like once or twice a month) That road consists of lame, redneck bars full of hipsters who stare when you walk past. There is also a nice novelty shop right next to a Chinese restaurant. Across the street from that is a pizza parlor, (Bob refuses to go) and an old time Italian diner. Frank likes that street because of the commercialization, and it’s near his house.
There is one small shop, a liquor store that is apparently never open, always closed. The sign on the door says ‘Sorry we’re closed. Come back later’. But it never opens. Frank had walked past that place so many times, night and day, but he just can’t get in. Nothing says it’s closed down for good either.
When Frank finally gets to the ‘Thank you for the Venom’, (that’s what the ominous liquor store was called) something has changed about it. The lights were on. Frank had had to stop and stare through the glass window. The sign that once said ‘Sorry we’re closed’, now says ‘Sorry we’re open. Come back later’. Frank let out a tiny chuckle at that. Classic. The shelves were fully stocked. That intrigued Frank.
He pushes the glass door open slowly. Once opened, the bell chimed. You know, the one that lets the clerks know about new customers entering. A small moan came from behind the counter, but Frank couldn’t see anyone. Frank walked up to the counter to check it all out, see if anyone is dead, to find out why they are open.
“Uhh, hello?” Frank questions nothing behind the counter. A tall, skinny kid pops up from behind. This kid couldn’t be anything over sixteen or seventeen. He wore glasses to the edge of his nose. His hair was highlighted brown. The kid looked scared shitless.
“Um... H-hi?” Frank pried into the lanky boy, again. The boy with the glasses bugged his eyes and held out is index finger to symbolize ‘one second’. Before Frank could retort, the kid with the spider like fingers ran out of the room and into another. That door he opened was very, very old. Rusted hinges among the frame, slamming shut to create a loud ‘thump’. Frank just stood there by the cranky counter.
Five minutes later a man walked in, scowling and grunting. He wasn’t the same scared teenager from before though. This man was much older. He had the same pale, sharp bone structure as the kid before. But this new man had long, raven, black, shoulder length hair that drips down his face. He was also much taller, and he wore all black clothing. His hands were stained with red, but Frank thought that was just paint. He must be an artist of some sort. In all honesty, Frank found this man to be incredible beautiful.
“What do you want?” The crabby man behind the counter scowled. He refused to make eye contact. Also, the man kept holding his neck, like he was hiding a bad tattoo on it. Frank found that to be weird.
“I, I don’t know. What is this place? I never see it open.” Frank observed hoping this man would not blow up on him.
“Well, this is the house of booze you moron. What did you think it was?” He scolded. Frank found himself frightened. No wonder the kid from before was terrified out of his wits. He still kept on his neck, what the fuck is wrong with his neck?
“Well, I know it’s an emporium of libation, it’s just. Its just I never see it open before.” Frank changed from a scared look to a puzzled expression. “What’s wrong with your neck?”
“None of your fucking business! Look. Kid. Are you even eighteen?” He finally lifted his gaze from his twirling hands on the counter, up to meet Franks gaze. He was prettier than before. And his question was a good one. Frank looked about as old as a freshman. On another matter, you have to be twenty-one to enter and purchase liquor.
“Of course. I’m twenty-four!” Frank blushed, showing a small smile. Much to Frank’s surprise, the man reciprocated the tiny smile back.
“Perfect… now! What do you want? I have a special on moonshine. Or, or you could get some special vodka, on sale!” This guy changed emotions fairly quick. He was grinning widely. Frank was kind of skeptical about the vodka, but his smile was gorgeous. He didn’t want it to go away.
“Well, I will have the vodka.” Frank bestowed his smile back.
The next day, Frank had woken up with a headache. Of course, he had drunk half a bottle of something that probably wasn’t vodka. He had to be in work early today; he apparently had to train the new kid. Frank hated training noobies. Some dumbass, sixteen year old, know-it-all.
Frank fell out of bed, wearing his hated flamed pajama pants. He staggered over to his medicine cabinet inside the bathroom, for aspirin. He searched around many various bottles with his eyes and hands. He had nothing for pain. He came across a mischievous black bottle. It was small, shaped like a prescription bottle; but it was blacked out. Frank just shrugged and opened it up. There were only two, tiny, blue pills inside. He shrugged again and popped them both in his mouth.
Frank then walked out of his bathroom and into his tiny apartment. He popped a black shirt over his bare chest. Next he removed his pajama pants so he was in his boxer shorts. Frank turned around quickly when he heard something move. Iero was not going to look to find a burglar or something in his undergarments, so he quickly threw on his black trousers.
Once he was fully clothed he walked into his living area and sighed in relief when he saw nothing. The weirdo walked back to his bedroom and threw on his green apron from starbucks. The ugly apron was mandatory and he hated it.
Next he sat down on his bed to put on his black vans. Frank flittered up in a heartbeat when he heard another, louder, thump from his living area. Frank got angry at his stupidity for probably hearing things, and resumed tying his shoe.
Next item on the list was his tie. Frank walked up to his closet and pulled out a black, silk tie. That wasn’t mandatory; Frank just thought he looked better and less loser-ish in it. Frank sighed when he saw his apron was already on. Damn. Fuck it. Frank thought and hung the tie limply around his neck and staggered back over to his bathroom.
Frank looked at himself, judgingly, before he decided to knot his limp tie. He couldn’t tie it anymore; that was now physically impossible. Something unknown had circled it around to Franks back, and began to choke him. What ever was choking him used his arms to cover his eyes, so Iero couldn’t see.
Frank gasped for the any breath, but no avail. The strong thing behind Frank swiftly and painfully threw Frank to the floor. Frank didn’t even get to look at it; he was too busy trying to catch his breath. The attacker pounced on Frank to use the tie to gag the weaker.
Frank had fallen on his chest so he could not see anything but the floor. Frank presumed his attacker to be a very strong male; because he was straddling him. The attacker felt like, ten times stronger. The man lifted Frank to his hands and knees, so he could wrap a very strong arm around his neck, again.
Then some very deep, probably fake, baritone voice said this: “Liking them pills yet?” Frank was feeling very, very dizzy and nauseating, and his vision was blurry. He felt like he took the most hard core diazepam ever mixed with a sedative. He just thought that was a side affect from being attacked in your own home.
Frank began to feel limp; his arms and legs gave out and he fell to the floor to his side. The smaller didn’t pass out, he was just like extremely relaxed; but his brain certainly was not. The guy pushed Frank to lie on his back and face him. All Frank could see was a black blur hovering above him, straddling him.
The man then began press his skinny chest against Frank’s, smirking. He stared at Frank for a few moments -still in the lying straddle- and sort of studied his victim. Frank just looked tired, scared, and like he didn’t care. That was the mysterious pills working.
The man let out an “hmm” like he was disappointed. Frank hoped that the “hmm” meant he didn’t like Frank and he were going to leave him alone forever, and ever.
Actually, that was the opposite. The man removed the tie/gag from Frank’s lips, who coughed a little bit. The guy chuckled, and moved his face back to a frown. The dark blur finally removed himself off of Frank who actually moaned in relief. He just stood there for a minute to study Frank again, then he said this:
“Get up.” His voice was stern, cold, and contained absolutely no humor. Frank looked at him in disbelief, but eventually got to his knees after a very long moment of struggling and falling. Frank couldn’t stand so, for the oddest reason, gripped the closest thing for support. His attacker. The man just seemed a little flattered and smirked with a bit of blush.
Frank crawled up the man and took a minute to gain his balance before leaving his grip. Frank waved his arms out to help comply with the balance.
“Great, now strip.” He smirked. Frank looked at him dumb struck. He was not going to strip for him, nor did he have the energy to even move. “Do it!” He sounded louder.
“N-n oh.” Frank finally denied, but in a drunk tone. The captor just sighs and laughs a little shaken. The blur walked extremely close to Frank and stares into him as Frank still struggles to stand. He puts an arm on Frank shoulder to stabilize him. Once Frank has stabled the man slaps Frank sharply across the face causing him to strike the floor.
“Fuck this.” The man pulls out a sweet Beretta and holds it up to Franks face.
“W-what’s that?” Once he notices the gun, he can immediately sober up.
“Shut up!” He screamed and pulled the trigger straight threw Franks head. Brains splattering across the tiles. The killer smirked. “Cunt. Da-amn! You see the way that bitch’s head exploded? Such a shame to waste a nice piece of ass like that.” He smirked again, blowing the tip of his gun.
Did you like? This is a Frerard, by the way.
Let me know if any changes are necessary.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
Next chapter: Beretta.