Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > A Lunatic's Lament
Murder City
1 reviewFRERARD. NEW CHAPTER! Psycho!Gerard and Psycho!Frank try to kill another one of their old tormentors. R&R and I will love you for life.
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[A/N: I had no idea some people were actually reading this, eh. So sorry for the late update. Thanks for the comments in the last chapter! They made me smile like a complete idiot, haha. This chapter isn't brilliant, but I won't say its too crappy either, so. Should I make them longer? Or am I making them too long? I dunnoooo. Chapter title comes from Green Day. Love, Dee xo]
Gerard runs up the steps of the old house, whipping out one of his many pen knives. He starts cleaning bits of dried blood off the blade with a piece of tissue paper, while at the same time, peering into one of the humongous windows. To me, the house looks empty and abandoned. But according to Gerard, it isn't. Gerard knows that some filthy son of a bitch is in there, in one of the huge rooms, sleeping like there's no tomorrow on a some king sized bed surrounded by ridiculously expensive furniture and glass sculptures of dolphins and mermaids. Gerard always knows.
It's midnight, and to be honest, I'm about ready to collapse onto the ground and just take a long nap, but Gerard wanted to "get another job done" (Gerard-speak for, "Hey Frank, what say we go end another human life and steal some stuff? I'll let you do the killing if you want.") Anyway, It took us about fifteen minutes to finally get rid of all the policemen who were tailing us by shooting all four of them in the face... Well, technically, Gerard did most of the work. I just sat in the car and stoned. (Literally. Secret weed stash. It comes in handy.) Gerard is usually the one who kills policemen. I... can't seem to be able to do it. I don't know if it's guilt or whatever, but those policemen haven't really, y'know, done anything to me or Gerard, they're just doing their jobs. It's not their fault that they've been told to catch a couple of murderous lunatics. Anyway. Whatever. I'm sure its not guilt. I'm not that much of a wuss.
When Gerard's certain that the coast is clear, he motions for me to come out from behind the large oak tree I'm hiding behind. I obey and walk up to him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Gerard opens one of the windows, carefully, quietly and stealthily. I make sure my knife is securely strapped to my left leg before climbing into the house and landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. Gerard follows suit, and soon, the two of us are creeping through the house, searching for our next victim. Gerard's excited, I can tell. Even in the dim light, I can see he's smiling like a deranged hyena. His eyes make their way to me and all of a sudden, he firmly grasps my left arm. I look up at him in shock, but he just beams at me, unfazed, and drags me through the house with him.
Ten minutes later, we've gone through almost every room in the house, but our victim-to-be is nowhere to be found. But as I said before, Gerard knows. Gerard knows that our target's here today, he's here now. He's in this house, alone. Or at least, he thinks he is.
The whole while, Gerard holds my hand, as though he's afraid I'm going to run away. No matter how much I try to squirm out of his iron-like grip, I simply can't do it, and he continues to march me around the house. Suddenly, he comes to an abrupt halt in front of a pale, cream coloured door with an expensive looking handle.
This is it. He's in there.
Jason Jack Foer Jr. Another tormentor, but more importantly, the man who murdered Mikey and got away with it. I attempt to open the door but Gerard bats my hand away and gives me a look. It's The Look. It's the glare Gerard gives me when he wants me to know that whatever I'm about to do is incredibly stupid and therefore, I should let him do it instead. It's his idea of chivalry, but my idea of...stupidity. "Gerard. I'm not a fucking baby. Stop treating me like one." I hiss at him and attempt to open the door again.
This time, Gerard slams me up against the adjacent wall, not bothering to be quiet. "It's not that you fucking idiot," he spits almost venomously. "I don't want you getting hurt, okay? The sonofabitch in that room has caused you enough grief already. AND, in case you haven't noticed, Frank, he killed my brother. I have to do the dirty work. Capiche?" He smashes his lips against mine before stomping over to the door, ripping it open and waltzing inside the room. I peer inside as Gerard surveys his sleeping victim, fiddling with his knife. It's quite beautifully furnished (er- I meant the room, not Gerard) with shiny vases filled with sweet smelling flowers, an expensive-looking mahogany table as well as a huge plasma TV. I've always wanted a room like this. Maybe after Gerard and I are done with all this revenge crap, we can move to Minnesota and change our names to Gary and Marshall and then we can get a nice little house with a living room and a garage and Gerard can go become a famous artist while I make music and it'll just be me and him and we'll be known as "the sweet gay couple" throughout the neighbourhood and then-
"Frankie, I'm done tying him up! You wanna awaken him from his beauty sleep?" Gerard interupts my train of thought from across the room. He saunters over to me, gently takes my hand and walks me over to the sleeping form of Jason Jack Foer Jr. "N-No," I snap, jerking my arm away from him. I know I'm being a total drama queen here, but Gerard needs to know that I won't stand for being treated like absolute shit and then being treated like I'm his little fairy princess. "Y-You go ahead and do it, Mikey was your brother, not mine." my voice rises several notches as I try to hide the fact that I'm probably going to start bawling my eyes out pretty soon.
As I glance at Gerard's face in the dark, I see I've struck a nerve. I see a flash of pain in his eyes and I almost want to take back what I said.
Almost. But not quite.
"No," He finally croaks. "Mikey was my brother. But he was your... your boyfriend." He says the word 'boyfriend' like its disgusting and filthy on his tongue.
Yep. I definitely struck a nerve there.
Our staring match is interuptted by Jason Jack Foer Jr. suddenly yelling, "What the bloody fuck is going on here?" We both turn to glare at him and he stares back, petrified.
It's going to be a long night.
Gerard runs up the steps of the old house, whipping out one of his many pen knives. He starts cleaning bits of dried blood off the blade with a piece of tissue paper, while at the same time, peering into one of the humongous windows. To me, the house looks empty and abandoned. But according to Gerard, it isn't. Gerard knows that some filthy son of a bitch is in there, in one of the huge rooms, sleeping like there's no tomorrow on a some king sized bed surrounded by ridiculously expensive furniture and glass sculptures of dolphins and mermaids. Gerard always knows.
It's midnight, and to be honest, I'm about ready to collapse onto the ground and just take a long nap, but Gerard wanted to "get another job done" (Gerard-speak for, "Hey Frank, what say we go end another human life and steal some stuff? I'll let you do the killing if you want.") Anyway, It took us about fifteen minutes to finally get rid of all the policemen who were tailing us by shooting all four of them in the face... Well, technically, Gerard did most of the work. I just sat in the car and stoned. (Literally. Secret weed stash. It comes in handy.) Gerard is usually the one who kills policemen. I... can't seem to be able to do it. I don't know if it's guilt or whatever, but those policemen haven't really, y'know, done anything to me or Gerard, they're just doing their jobs. It's not their fault that they've been told to catch a couple of murderous lunatics. Anyway. Whatever. I'm sure its not guilt. I'm not that much of a wuss.
When Gerard's certain that the coast is clear, he motions for me to come out from behind the large oak tree I'm hiding behind. I obey and walk up to him, trying to make as little noise as possible. Gerard opens one of the windows, carefully, quietly and stealthily. I make sure my knife is securely strapped to my left leg before climbing into the house and landing on the hardwood floor with a loud thump. Gerard follows suit, and soon, the two of us are creeping through the house, searching for our next victim. Gerard's excited, I can tell. Even in the dim light, I can see he's smiling like a deranged hyena. His eyes make their way to me and all of a sudden, he firmly grasps my left arm. I look up at him in shock, but he just beams at me, unfazed, and drags me through the house with him.
Ten minutes later, we've gone through almost every room in the house, but our victim-to-be is nowhere to be found. But as I said before, Gerard knows. Gerard knows that our target's here today, he's here now. He's in this house, alone. Or at least, he thinks he is.
The whole while, Gerard holds my hand, as though he's afraid I'm going to run away. No matter how much I try to squirm out of his iron-like grip, I simply can't do it, and he continues to march me around the house. Suddenly, he comes to an abrupt halt in front of a pale, cream coloured door with an expensive looking handle.
This is it. He's in there.
Jason Jack Foer Jr. Another tormentor, but more importantly, the man who murdered Mikey and got away with it. I attempt to open the door but Gerard bats my hand away and gives me a look. It's The Look. It's the glare Gerard gives me when he wants me to know that whatever I'm about to do is incredibly stupid and therefore, I should let him do it instead. It's his idea of chivalry, but my idea of...stupidity. "Gerard. I'm not a fucking baby. Stop treating me like one." I hiss at him and attempt to open the door again.
This time, Gerard slams me up against the adjacent wall, not bothering to be quiet. "It's not that you fucking idiot," he spits almost venomously. "I don't want you getting hurt, okay? The sonofabitch in that room has caused you enough grief already. AND, in case you haven't noticed, Frank, he killed my brother. I have to do the dirty work. Capiche?" He smashes his lips against mine before stomping over to the door, ripping it open and waltzing inside the room. I peer inside as Gerard surveys his sleeping victim, fiddling with his knife. It's quite beautifully furnished (er- I meant the room, not Gerard) with shiny vases filled with sweet smelling flowers, an expensive-looking mahogany table as well as a huge plasma TV. I've always wanted a room like this. Maybe after Gerard and I are done with all this revenge crap, we can move to Minnesota and change our names to Gary and Marshall and then we can get a nice little house with a living room and a garage and Gerard can go become a famous artist while I make music and it'll just be me and him and we'll be known as "the sweet gay couple" throughout the neighbourhood and then-
"Frankie, I'm done tying him up! You wanna awaken him from his beauty sleep?" Gerard interupts my train of thought from across the room. He saunters over to me, gently takes my hand and walks me over to the sleeping form of Jason Jack Foer Jr. "N-No," I snap, jerking my arm away from him. I know I'm being a total drama queen here, but Gerard needs to know that I won't stand for being treated like absolute shit and then being treated like I'm his little fairy princess. "Y-You go ahead and do it, Mikey was your brother, not mine." my voice rises several notches as I try to hide the fact that I'm probably going to start bawling my eyes out pretty soon.
As I glance at Gerard's face in the dark, I see I've struck a nerve. I see a flash of pain in his eyes and I almost want to take back what I said.
Almost. But not quite.
"No," He finally croaks. "Mikey was my brother. But he was your... your boyfriend." He says the word 'boyfriend' like its disgusting and filthy on his tongue.
Yep. I definitely struck a nerve there.
Our staring match is interuptted by Jason Jack Foer Jr. suddenly yelling, "What the bloody fuck is going on here?" We both turn to glare at him and he stares back, petrified.
It's going to be a long night.
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