Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > If I fall... (missfunghoul57's request)
[/France 1941 9pm Calais.
Frank Iero sat at his desk, his elbows resting on the wooden surface, his hands holding the headset to his ears and his tired eyes barely able to keep open.
He was a member of the SOE, a top secret organisation run by MI5. He was radio hacking, the most dangerous job they had going, get caught by the Gestapo and that's it, you're a goner.
Frank was originally American until his parents migrated to England when he was ten. He was twenty now but still spoke with a tinge of a New Jersey accent that was stronger when he got angry. He had dark chocolate brown hair that had never been cut and ran down to the base of his neck. He was grateful he was not a soldier or it would have been cut short, but Frank could go undercover at any second so he needed to look as inconspicuous as possible.
That's exactly what Frank was doing now- working undercover in Calais as a common parisian called Marc LeBeau with all of the faked identification papers to go with it. He was attempting to hack a German radioline that carried all the information and plans back and forth to the German HQ. That's all he'd been told about the mission, no more, no less and just had to work with that. He sighed and gave up, he would try again tomorrow- all he was receiving was static. He stood up and stretched, leaving the radio equipment out, he'd never been caught before so he had no worries. Back in England, he was known as 'Frank the Unfindable', he smiled as he thought of the prospect of coming home soon- if a mission proved unfruitful then it could be abandoned early.
Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the door.
Frank froze,
"Who is it?" he asked in fluent french, his New Jersey accent disguised.
"It's the police, open up!" came the reply, but it wasn't in french.
It was in German.
"Who are you looking for?" Frank replied, quickly changing his language to German also.
"We are looking for Herr Marc LeBeau. We have a warrant for his immediate arrest."
"He isn't here. There is no Herr LeBeau here." Frank said, but his voice wavered with panic and his Jersey accent seeped through.
"Oh," drawled the German officer, "I do believe he is..."
There was a slam and the door rattled in its frame. Frank jumped and squeaked in terror and he ran for the window on the far side of the room. He tugged at the handles but they were stiff and wouldn't budge. Panic rose in his throat as he struggled to prise the veranda window open.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" He cursed and resorted to pounding his foot into it. Flecks of paint fell to the floor but the window still refused to open. There was a sudden crash and the room door swung open revealing a smartly dressed man and three soldiers. All were armed with guns.
"Now, are we going to come quietly? Or do we have to do this the hard way, Marc... or should I say Frank Iero?" The german officer purred, speaking in broken but considerably good english, his native accent rich.
"Fuck you!" Frank growled, e kicked the window and this time, by some mercy, it opened and he shot out onto the veranda. It wasn't a drop below that could kill him, but it would definitely break a few bones if he didn't land it properly.
"OPEN FIRE!!!" The officer bellowed and the night air was shattered by the sound of gunfire. Frank scrambled on the veranda's ledge, keeping low to avoid bullets and stood up, wobbling on his feet. The two storey drop certainly didn't seem so appealing anymore and the wind was icy and bitter.
The bullets stopped abruptly and Frank glanced over his shoulder to see the man smiling at him,
"They all tried it Frank, but none of them had the balls to do it."
Frank flashed a grin back at him,
"Well I obviously have."
The man's face dropped as Frank turned to face him one last time and stepped back into thin air, plummeting towards the ground below.
Frank Iero sat at his desk, his elbows resting on the wooden surface, his hands holding the headset to his ears and his tired eyes barely able to keep open.
He was a member of the SOE, a top secret organisation run by MI5. He was radio hacking, the most dangerous job they had going, get caught by the Gestapo and that's it, you're a goner.
Frank was originally American until his parents migrated to England when he was ten. He was twenty now but still spoke with a tinge of a New Jersey accent that was stronger when he got angry. He had dark chocolate brown hair that had never been cut and ran down to the base of his neck. He was grateful he was not a soldier or it would have been cut short, but Frank could go undercover at any second so he needed to look as inconspicuous as possible.
That's exactly what Frank was doing now- working undercover in Calais as a common parisian called Marc LeBeau with all of the faked identification papers to go with it. He was attempting to hack a German radioline that carried all the information and plans back and forth to the German HQ. That's all he'd been told about the mission, no more, no less and just had to work with that. He sighed and gave up, he would try again tomorrow- all he was receiving was static. He stood up and stretched, leaving the radio equipment out, he'd never been caught before so he had no worries. Back in England, he was known as 'Frank the Unfindable', he smiled as he thought of the prospect of coming home soon- if a mission proved unfruitful then it could be abandoned early.
Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the door.
Frank froze,
"Who is it?" he asked in fluent french, his New Jersey accent disguised.
"It's the police, open up!" came the reply, but it wasn't in french.
It was in German.
"Who are you looking for?" Frank replied, quickly changing his language to German also.
"We are looking for Herr Marc LeBeau. We have a warrant for his immediate arrest."
"He isn't here. There is no Herr LeBeau here." Frank said, but his voice wavered with panic and his Jersey accent seeped through.
"Oh," drawled the German officer, "I do believe he is..."
There was a slam and the door rattled in its frame. Frank jumped and squeaked in terror and he ran for the window on the far side of the room. He tugged at the handles but they were stiff and wouldn't budge. Panic rose in his throat as he struggled to prise the veranda window open.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" He cursed and resorted to pounding his foot into it. Flecks of paint fell to the floor but the window still refused to open. There was a sudden crash and the room door swung open revealing a smartly dressed man and three soldiers. All were armed with guns.
"Now, are we going to come quietly? Or do we have to do this the hard way, Marc... or should I say Frank Iero?" The german officer purred, speaking in broken but considerably good english, his native accent rich.
"Fuck you!" Frank growled, e kicked the window and this time, by some mercy, it opened and he shot out onto the veranda. It wasn't a drop below that could kill him, but it would definitely break a few bones if he didn't land it properly.
"OPEN FIRE!!!" The officer bellowed and the night air was shattered by the sound of gunfire. Frank scrambled on the veranda's ledge, keeping low to avoid bullets and stood up, wobbling on his feet. The two storey drop certainly didn't seem so appealing anymore and the wind was icy and bitter.
The bullets stopped abruptly and Frank glanced over his shoulder to see the man smiling at him,
"They all tried it Frank, but none of them had the balls to do it."
Frank flashed a grin back at him,
"Well I obviously have."
The man's face dropped as Frank turned to face him one last time and stepped back into thin air, plummeting towards the ground below.
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