Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge

by ilovefrankieieroxx 9 reviews

Frank is a psychopath desperately wanting revenge...and he gets it.

Category: My Chemical Romance - Rating: R - Genres: Angst,Drama,Horror - Characters: Frank Iero,Gerard Way,Mikey Way - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2012-04-27 - Updated: 2012-04-29 - 3330 words

Hey people. Sorry it’s been a while I’ve been busy with a lot of stuff. I got the idea of this on the plane home from Hong Kong. I’ve changed from my original idea cause I wanted to make Frank a psychopath. o_o I got the idea from We Need to Talk about Kevin which I watched on the plane back to the UK (13 and a half hour flight) it’s a good film and I want to read the book so I’ll have to add it to my ever growing list of books I need to read. Anyway title as you probably already know is from MCR. Rates and reviews would be appreciated cause they really make my day.

Rosie :)

A/N: Thank you sooooooo much for making this green!!!!!! When I saw I was litarlly jumping up and down in my seat going "OMFG IT'S GREEN!!!!!!!!!" and my mate next to me was like "wtf?! o.O

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge!
One Shot
By Apollonia Corleone

The metallic taste of blood coats my taste buds, dripping from the corner of my dry, chapped lips and onto the murky grey pavement that cuts into my soft skin as I lay there being repeatedly kicked and punched.

They continue mercilessly, laughing, but I do not scream. Screaming is for the weak. I mustn’t show weakness. I mustn’t make a sound.

I try to stand but my legs won’t work and I fall back down again. The grey polluted atmosphere clogs up my lungs as I try to breathe only achieving shaky, uneven and painful gasps of air.

With one last kick which causes me to fall into the gutter they leave. Laughing and congratulating each other on the attack.

Spiting the scarlet blood from my mouth into a puddle. I watch as the red mixes in with the water forming red rings slowly spreading outwards.

Lifting my head slightly off the ground the grimy world spins cause me to groan and lower my head back down.

The sky turned an even murkier grey colour as rain starts to fall. Slowly at first but gradually gaining speed.

The water falls onto my face mixing with the blood running down my face. Struggling I manage to stand up and limp down the gum speckled pavement. Not bothering to protect myself from the hard precipitation obscuring my vision along with the blood from the gash across my forehead. Not realizing they were red with anger. Wanting revenge.

Limping determinedly home, ignoring the shooting pain in my wrist and the dull pain of my shoulder as my bag weighed it down.

Upon reaching my house I delve into my tight jeans pocket and managed to get out my keys. I mange to get the right key and unlocked the door.

Closing it behind me, I drop my heavy bag in the middle of the hall and kick off my shoes. I lock the door behind me in case they followed me home.

I sigh and run upstairs not looking in my reflection. Not wanting to see what they’ve done.

Slamming my poster covered bedroom door behind me. I lean against it and slide down slowly until I reach the floor.

Staring at my bedroom around me. All the band posters, all my possessions littered on the floor. All my attempts at drawing in scrunched up balls of paper. The growing mould in the corner of my ceiling. My guitar in it’s battered case. I stand shakily and walk over to my CD player and punch the play button and turn the volume up to full. The raw, angry music of Black Flag fills the room.

I then look in the mirror which is attached to my wardrobe door. I see all the cuts and bruises. The blood running from the corner of my mouth. The dark red patches in my dyed black hair which has plastered to my face due to the rain. The purple bruise forming around my left eye. The murderous red glint in them.

Sighing. I change quickly into clean clothes. Move all the crap from my desk to the floor and turn my laptop on. Standing up I turn Black Flag off and walk back to the laptop as the artificial light glare into my face illuminating my injuries. Turning on my iTunes I play Sex Pistols full blast. Again filling my room with the raw music.

Turning on the internet I quickly turn off my Facebook tab and go to Google. I then type in “How to murder a whole school”

Finding the website I’m looking for. I pick up a writing pad, a pen and make notes.


“Frank! You’re package is here!” calls down my mum.

Running down the stairs I pick it up without thanking or even looking at her and run back up the stairs.

They’ve arrived. Delving my still bruised arm into the box I manage to pull out 3 bicycle locks. Picking up an empty large sports bag I then walk calmly down the corridor until I reach a plain black wooden door with a bloody hand print placed on it.

Opening the door slowly and soundlessly I calmly walk down the dimly lit corridor at the end there is another plain wooden door which I also open to reveal my parents war room. Where they store all their licensed weapons in case of attack.

Dropping the bag onto the floor I start to pack, anything I could find into the bag.
When no more could fit in the bag I zipped it up and carried on my still sore shoulder and hissed as it cut in but left the room.

Everything was ready. Time was right.


The time is just right. Everyone is trapped. The bicycle locks are in place. I stand my place at centre stage. The room is in complete darkness. The screaming and confused shouts of panic fill the air.

I drop the sports bag and it lands with a loud clunk. Causing everyone to slowly and silently turn in confusion towards the stage. I unzip it loudly and slowly and cock a gun. At this sound the screaming starts. Sighing I point it to the ceiling and pull the trigger several times to get everyone to shut the fuck up.

Silence falls. Pointing at the skinny boy in an anthrax shirt who controlled the lights in assembly who was in the box with the lights. Motioning him to point the spotlight onto me he does so, shaking uncontrollably.

When everybody sees the bright light shine to reveal me with about 20 guns, a baseball bat, 5 grenades, knives, a samurai sword and a rocket launcher laid all in front of me.

“MR IERO!” angrily shouts our headmaster “COME DOWN HERE AT ONCE!”

Instead of obeying or answering I point the cocked gun and shoot him squarely in the head. Screams fill the room again as a trail of blood flows his face, his face pales, his eyes roll into the back of his skull. And collapses onto the hard ground. Blood still slowly flowing from the tiny bullet hole.

Shooting the gun at the ceiling everybody falls silence again.

“Listen here you little fucks!” I hiss so quietly but with so much venom that causes no one to dare make a sound.

“I am going to kill every single human being in this room. None of you are going and no one is going to know it was me who killed you. I’ve shut down all the CCTV cameras in this room and deleted all the videos. You are going to die for all the things I have suffered over the years. All the judging, the bullying, the beatings, the isolation, everything. Except one boy is going to survive apart from me and that boy, is that boy at the back of the hall drawing in his sketch pad.”

All eyes look at the raven haired good looking boy at the back who was indeed drawing in his black sketch pad. His head lifts up at the mention of him and looks me directly in the eyes.

“Why me?” he asks calmly and coolly. Not a trace of fear in his jade eyes.

“Because you are the only person who hasn’t judged me for something. Also you are very attractive” I add a little tinge of pink laced my cheeks but wasn’t noticed due to the harsh yellow spot light above me.

A crooked grin spread across his pale face as he returned to his sketch.
“Ew! Faggots get a room!” jeered a jock on the far right of the hall. Still looking at the raven haired boy. I pointed the gun between his eyes and pulled the trigger.

His head exploded on the impact of the bullet. Pinkish brain matter spread around the room coating many other students and teachers along with sharp pieces of skull and blood.

“Anybody else got anything homophobic to say about me?” I hiss. No one dares even breathe at the look of evil and malaise in my eyes.

“Good.” I say smirking. Sinking down until I was balancing on the balls of my feet. I pick up a knife. It gleamed in the light perfectly clear. Never used. My reflection distorted.

Whilst everybody waits for me to make my next move. The tension slowly rising as time passes.

The room stays silent and still watchful as I sit cross legged on the stage behind the line of weapons. My eyes closed. The knife ready in my hands. Waiting for anymore to dare make a sound.

One fool after 15 minutes of silence made the mistake of whispering to a nearby friend “What’s he waiting for?”

Without opening my eyes I throw the knife in the direction of the voice and I could hear the sound of gurgling signifying that the knife had succeeded in lodging itself in the perpetrators oesophagus. Opening my eyes I look at my handiwork.

Everybody stares in shock as an orange cheerleader with a skirt that looks more like a belt. Heavily made up eyes bulge in surprise at the knife sticking out of her throat.

Blood flows from her mouth. She then raises her fake tanned arms and pulls the knife out causing the already steady flow of ruby blood to worsen and to spill all down her clothes and legs onto the floor. Her eyes roll into the back of her skull as she collapses dead.

All the eyes return to me as I smile. A cold hearted one and close my eyes once more clutching another knife tightly to my chest.

The silence isn’t broken for another half an hour when someone sneezes. The knife is again thrown in the direction of the sound and hits the student in the head. Frozen they stand there. Still alive, scared of removing the knife, watching as a trickle of blood flows down his face.

Standing up I get off the stage. The spotlight still pointed where I was. People moving out of my way as I make my way to the scared student with the knife in their head. They’re eyes growing in fear as I approach.

The student was only 11 years old but not stupid enough to think that he could escape.
When I reach the child. I grab firmly onto the handle and pull down ripping open the skull. No one dares scream in fear for what I would do to them.

The crushing noise of the skull breaks into pieces oddly makes me feel at ease. Blood flowing more and more the further down I pull the knife down.

Cutting the brain in half. It is obvious the student is dead but he doesn’t fall.

I continue down watching as the blood flow increases. Cutting down the nose in half watching as the mucus joins the blood. Splitting the mouth and tongue in two more blood explodes of his mouth. But I still pull it down.

I stop when I reach the end of his skull and his face is fully cut in half. The sight was one to cause nightmares.

The eyes were rolling lifelessly at the bottom of its socket. The pinkish brain matter showed clearly all the connection crisscrossing one another. The nose cut cleanly in two poured mucus along with blood. The mouth slip win two with blood still flowing from either side.

Walking calmly back to the stage. Faces of disgust and fear pass me as I continue walking. When I reach my spot on the stage. I watch my fellow students and teachers eyeing my every move. Fear in everybody’s eyes.

Picking up a grenade. I remove the pin with my teeth and throw it in direction of a densely packed area of people. It explodes on contact with a person’s skull causing it and everyone around her to blow up. Blood, guts and bones flew everywhere. I laughed at how comic it looked. Not a normal laugh. A cold, merciless laugh.

A jock a couple years ahead of me just couldn’t take it anymore and began to cry uncontrollably. Several others began to also. Watching them closely I pick up the samurai sword and slide of the stage whilst everyone was still watching the cowards. When I turn to the stage the looks are full of fear and uncertainty.

Calmly walking to the cowards I lift the sword and cleanly cut off all their heads in one clean sweep. Blood gushed out of the holes coating everybody around in their blood. Their heads flew into the air momentarily. Then fall down next to one another on the ground.

Calmly turning around I strut back to the stage and regain my potion underneath the spot light and drop the blooded sword and pick up a machine gun.

Hissing “If anybody even thinks of making any noise I’ll blow your fucking head off.” Venom dripping in my tone.

I watch intently at the crowd and notice a teacher with a mobile phone trying to call the police. As quickly as I notice the teacher has been shot dead.

Again sliding off the stage I go to every individual in the room and demand their mobile phones or anyway to communicate to others outside the room. To terrified to refuse since I still had the machine gun in my hand. I collected them all. I go back to stage and put them in the sports bag.

I was suddenly bored of waiting for people to make any noise and decide to then pick off random students at random times.

Traumatising the remaining people. Scared they’ll be next. I make sure I keep the raven haired boy and his brother and all the jocks who beat me up the other week alive.

When only they remained the room. I picked up the metal baseball bat. And slowly stepped from the stage. Walking slowly and steadily towards them. The baseball bat held tightly in my grip.
Gerard was the calmest out of all the survivors the rest were either crying or soiling their clothes.

Upon reaching them I raised the baseball bat high in the air and began to beat the tallest and biggest thug repeatedly, knocking him to the floor. Watching as his crimson blood pool around him as he cried out in pain begging for mercy. Which were ignored as I repeatedly beat him. Hearing the satisfying sound of breaking bones on impact of the metal. Watching the skin rip and blood pour. Leaving his face last I beat it again and again ignoring his cries of pure agony humming a tune softly.

Once he is unmoving I chuck the baseball bat aside. Turn around to the others and pull out a gun that I had stuck in my waistband and shot each of them in the crotch.

The screams of pure agony ran throughout the room. Falling onto their knees. I raised the gun again and shot everyone in the right shoulder. Not killing them but causing them great pain and discomfort.

Grabbing a knife which was hidden in my converse I pulled it out and cut everyone of their hamstrings watching blood spurts out and their cries of pain.

Finishing it off. I slit a tiny slit in her windpipe and watched as the blood slowly seeped from the wound. Watching as they slowly bleed to death.

The only people who were left where the raven haired boy still sketching and his timid brother.

Turning around I aim at the timid boys head and shot killing him instantly. Unaware at what had just happened. He fell off the side and landed in a tangled heap on the stage. A pool of blood every growing around him.

Raising his head at the noise. The boy dropped his sketch pad and ran over to his dead brother. Crying in grief and sorrow.

Walking calmly over to the place where the boy was drawing. I picked up the sketch pad to see what he was drawing.

I was stunned at how accurate he was and how quick he was too.

The drawing was of me killing the remaining jocks. I looked at the detail of the look of evil and malice on my face. The blood spurt from the wounds.

Flicking back I saw equally stunning drawing of me shooting, throwing knives, sitting calmly waiting, throwing a grenade, body pieces in the air and one struck me the most. I was on stage looking over all the dead bodies in the room. The amount of detail was unbelievable. My tattoos were done exactly right and my hair dishevelled.

Dropping the sketch pad I look at the brother weeping and sobbing for the lost. Sensing I was watching he cradled the body one last time not caring for the blood staining his clothes. Tears falling steadily down his pallid cheeks onto the corpse.

He put down the body gently and stood up glaring daggers at me. Absolutely livid. He ran from the stage towards me until he was towering over me. Revenge and hatred radiating off him.

“Why did you do that?” he said venom dripping in his tone.

“I did say that you were going to be the only person left.”

“But he had done nothing to you!”

“He didn’t suffer”

“No but he was only 14! 14 is no age to die! He had his whole life ahead of him and it ended because of you”

I said nothing

“You’re not even sorry! Don’t you care that you’ve brutally murdered over 200 people!” he shouted now

“You didn’t seem to care when you were just sitting there drawing me!” I retorted

“Because I knew if I tried to do anything you would shoot me. I’m not stupid!”

“Oh really?” I asked raising my gun and pointed it between his eyes. His eyes crossed in fear at the cold barrel.

“No I’m not” he said stubbornly no trace of fear in his tone.

Not replying I lower the gun and crush my lips to his. But he resists pushing me away.
When I do he glares at me.

“Don’t think that kissing me is going to solve anything” he spat. Turning around he walked away from me towards the stage where the fire exist was.

Angry bubbled inside and threw a knife at his back. Causing his to fall on the stage next to his brother. His blood mingling with his brothers.

Alone in a room full of bodies. The smell of decay finally engrossing my nostrils.

I walked calmly over to the body of the raven haired boy and his brother and raised a gun to my temple.

Saying my final words “I regret nothing”

I pull the trigger and I fall.
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