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"This is fucking ridiculous," Frank flipped off of his bunk. "We need to go out. We're practically locked in this bus. Can't we get Joe to stop for a while?" he asked his band mates, scratching his neck.

"We're in the middle of the road, I highly doubt he'll stop the bus just 'cause you feel too bored to function properly," Ray said, opening his eyes. "It's three in the morning, anyway. Shouldn't you try to get some rest?" he sat up from the couch. "That's sure as hell what the rest of us are doing, right?" he turned to Mikey and Gerard, who were both working on a comic book together.

Their heads popped up. "What?" Mikey asked. Ray and Frank rolled their eyes and huffed. "Did we do something wrong? Seriously, we're working on a comic, it's not that bad that we were paying attention to each other, right?" Mikey stood on his feet, getting angrier as he spoke more and more.

Gerard pulled his brother back in the chair next to him. "Calm down, Mike," he tried to soothe him. His attention turned to Ray. "Sorry, we didn't exactly catch what you said, as you can clearly tell, so what's going on?" he asked, brushing a hand though his dyed orange hair.

"Frankie says we should go out for the night, even though it's not even night anymore -- it's three in the morning -- and just... skip sleeping before we have a damn show tomorrow!" Ray yelled, turning his head in Frank's direction.

"Well, maybe he's right," Mikey began. "Things here are extremely boring. What would one one night do? Kill us? I think not," Mikey chuckled, going back to his drawing.

Ray sighed. Frank silently cheered victoriously. "Mike, we have a concert tomorrow," his brother tried to reason with him. "It very well may get us killed -- if the fans find us, that it. And, as we all know very well, they always seem to," Gerard continued. Ray smirked at his friend.

"Well, it's two against two. It's times like this I miss Bob. He was like our mediator!" Frank exclaimed, chuckling. The one time Bob was of true necessity, and he's been gone for years.

"I dunno. How about we just go? Ray and I won't actually get you guys to give up," Gerard said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "At least we know," he added.

"Well, let's go then!" Frank hurried, grabbing his jacket. He walked toward Joe, saying, "Dude, you're gonna need to stop for a while, we're all going out. We're gonna meet you back here in an hour and a half -- maybe two hours. Okay?" he headed toward the door.

Joe stopped the bus, eyes rolling. "Just this one time, boys. Try your hardest not to get into any trouble," he told them.

The four men huffed as their eyes narrowed. "Nice to know you think of us as teenagers when you're only a couple years older then Ray and Gee, Joe," Mikey said, clenching his fist behind his back.

They headed outside the bus, running to wherever they could find. "What about here?" Frank asked as they strolled in front of a resturant. The others looked at each other hesitantly. "Are you guys really gonna debate this?" he grew annoyed. "C'mon, let's just go inside! I'd rather not be in some dark movie theater just to play it safe," he complained.

"Fine, let's just get this over with," Gerard sighed, shoving his brother and Ray inside the resteraunt with him and Frank. "This fucking absurd," he mumbled to Frank upon entering. "Someone's gonna notice us. Or maybe we'll miss Joe and he'll be wondering where the hell we are! Nothing good can come of this, Frankie," he looked toward his best friend.

"We'll be fine, Gee," he told Gerard. "I promise."

~x~

The four sat behind the table, praying to God that none of them died. They had all gotten pretty close to it. The bullets laid on the ground, sprawled all around them. How did this happen? The one time they go out on tour, even just before a concert, and people try to kill them! How did they get so unlucky as to stumble upon the place where there are homicidal maniacs?

Frank looked to his left as another bullet was aimed to a nearby man. He fell to the ground, blood already staining the carpets. Frank looked away, swallowing hard. This isn't happening, he kept telling himself. This is just some nightmare. Maybe I'm hallucinating or something, but this surely cannot be happening.

The man that had fallen to the floor only got whiter and whiter to the point where he looked like a ghost -- no surprise there. Frank looked toward the body again. His eyes widened when he saw the blood drip from his mouth, his face -- paler then any other that he's seen. It was horrifying. Frank had begun shaking already, trying to talk, but nothing coming out. He tapped Ray on the arm.

Ray's attention turned to the other guitarist. "What is i--" he stopped when he noticed Frank pointing to his left. His eyes popped out of their sockets. "Holy shit," he mumbled. "I don't think I've ever seen so much blood!" he exclaimed, swallowing hard.

Suddenly, five or six guns dropped on the ground, several landing in a pile in front of the four fearful men. Gerard and Mikey's eyes finally widened their expression. Their breathing quickened in pace. Both of the Way brothers were shaking, so much they didn't even know it was possible. They all looked above the table, noticing all of the gunmen had no longer been armed.

They all stood up, turning around and grabbing the guns, pointing them at the men that had been aiming at them. Probably out of ammo anyway, Gerard thought, but continued to point at one of the men. Several of them smirked. Policemen barged in, yelling, "Put them down!"

The four men gulped, eyes growing even larger -- if possible -- and placed the guns in front of the table. We're screwed, Gerard thought. They all knew in the back of their minds that, once they threw the guns, some sort of shit was gonna happen, and they only made it worse. "Hands behind your back," the other man said.

The four obeyed, breathing heavily. "You're coming with us," the policeman said, handcuffing Gerard. He hurried, trying to get out of the man's grip, only to fail. Mikey, Frank and Ray all ended up squishing Gerard on the side. "This is fucking ridiculous," Mikey whispered to them. "Why the hell did we do that? They think we killed all those people. What are we gonna do about the show tomorrow?" he asked. He got even more aggrivated as his friends and brother just shrugged and looked at each other.

Once they finally arrived at the police station, the men let them out of the back seat. They were shoved multiple times until they were in cells. Mikey and Gerard in one and Ray and Frank in the one next to them. Gerard turned around and nearly screamed. "Holy shit," was all he could say. Mikey turned around and his jaw dropped to the floor.

There, on the floor, lay a man, and a big one at that. A muscly, bald, tall, hairy man. They both backed up as far as they could, hitting their backs against the bars. They both knew wrongful accusations that lead to time in prison were horrendous, but they didn't know they were this horrendous.

Mikey grabbed his older brothers arm. "You remember when we were little kids, and you promised you'd protect me from whatever harm came our way -- no matter how old we were or how helpless you felt?" he asked him. Gerard nodded. "That still applies right now. You promised me, you can't back down now -- not twenty-five years later."

Gerard nodded once again. He would do whatever it took to keep his brother out of harms way, even if it meant putting himself on death row -- hell, it's more like placing himself at death's door.

~x~

Mikey and Gerard Way both woke up to the sound of clanging on the bars. Gerard picked himself up, rubbing his eyes. He looked at his surroundings, only just remembering. Oh yeah, they thought that we killed people. The man that had been asleep last night was now punching the bars on the cell door. Not so much as a shed of blood rose to the surface from his hand. Gerard's eyes widened. He crawled over to his younger brother. "Mike," he shook his brothers half-asleep body. "Mikey, c'mon!" he got slightly louder. He looked to their cellmate, making sure he barely noticed their concious presence.

Mikey rubbed his eyes, finally opening them, whispering, "What?" he sounded angry -- angrier then Gerard had ever heard him before. Though, Gerard has rarely heard him angry. He was the peace maker, it was out of character for him to be angry.

Gerard pointed toward the man; his teeth grit, hunching over, orange jumpsuit. It was something more horrific than the two had ever seen. He was a scary looking man. It wasn't exactly an ideal thing for them to be meeting at all, anyway. Prison sickened the two just by the thought, and now the entire band had a criminal record.

"Gerard Way?" one of the policemen sitting at the desks looked up from his clipboard. "Gerard Way?" he repeated, looking around to see who exactly Gerard Way was.

Gerard looked to his brother, tapping him on the shoulder. "I guess I gotta go," he told him. He flashed a comforting smile, saying, "Stay safe, Mike. I'll be back in just a few minutes, I promise," he got up.

The man grabbed the key that was on his desk, letting him out of his cell, being sure his brother and the other man didn't run off. He lead Gerard to another room, this one darker, colder, and it made Gerard feel a million times more uncomfortable. They sat him down on a chair, and began asking questions.

"Why would you do that? Did you do it out of cold blood?" the man began asking questions like he was mad.

Gerard's eyes widened immediately. He knew they would think he was lying, but he didn't care at this point, he was beyond aggrivated that he was here on false accusations as it was. "I didn't kill those people, neither did the others. I swear! I'd swear my life on it, but I don't think I can. We were there at a bad time, they threw the goddamn guns at us, we pointed them at 'em in self defense! Because, honestly, fists can still do great, unknown harm," Gerard's explaination peaked the curiousity of the policeman. He looked at the opening door.

"They all tell the same tale. We've asked all but that blond boy. Who are we to suspect they're not telling the truth?" he asked the man. Gerard smiled. They would finally be able to get out of this hell hole -- hopefully -- and get back to the bus. Sure, Joe will most definitely yell at them, saying it was much longer then an hour and a half, or even two hours if he's generous.

"They were pointing the guns at the men. Those men have been taken into question as well, and they have told a completely different story. How do we know these boys didn't have the time to come up with a story, memorize it, and tell you the exact same bullshit one by one?" the man's voice was purely angry. He believed that, if you're caught in a crime, the policemen are never wrong. You're always convicted if deserving, and shown mercy if necessary.

The man who was practically interviewing Gerard sighed, turning in his direction. "Go back to your cell. You're gonna be in there for a long time, might as well get comfortable," he grumbled, shoving Gerard toward the cell. Gerard walked over, seeing the man making Mikey do push-ups. His foot was on Mikey's back, and he kept screaming for him to not be such a wuss and "put a little muscle into it," as he likes to put it.

Gerard grit his teeth. The man shoved him inside the cell, not even caring -- or even paying attention to -- what the prisoner was doing to his younger brother. Gerard, being the man who promised to keep him out of harms way as much as possible, grabbed the man by the collar as the policeman walked off. "Stay the fuck away from my brother," he spat, shoving him to the wall.

"So you're a little fag for your brother? Hm, fits. Why else would you be oh so protective of him? Try to "keep him out of harms way"? Try to be the little hero to the fucking princess," he rolled his eyes. He shoved Gerard to the floor. "Follow the little princess, then. Push-ups. Now," he demanded.

"Wow, the least you could do is learn to ask, not demand people to do your bidding. You know what? For that, I'm not doing it. Not like I was actually gonna do it anyway, but this makes the idea even less appealing," Gerard moved to the wall, sitting on the ground, arms folded.

Their cell mate rolled his eyes and huffed. He pushed Gerard by the collar of his orange jumpsuit, pushing him facefirst into the linoleum. "Shit," Gerard mumbled. He saw a bit of blood on the floor. He just began doing the damned push-ups. He would have to do them one way or another.

"Gerard and Mikey Way?" a woman stood in front of the cell, eyes widening when she noticed the two men were doing push-ups on their cell mates command. Mikey and Gerard's heads rose and they nodded. "Someone has bailed you out," she explained. They looked at each other, hurrying outside of the cell. She told Frank and Ray the same thing, and they came running like the other two.

"Who would have bailed us out?" Ray asked. "We didn't even get our one phone call. How the hell does news travel so fast to our families?"

A girl sat in one of the seats, seemingly waiting. She turned her head to the side, seeing the four men. She smiled. "I think you all owe me a 'Thank you,' not a mysterious glare," she said after several minutes. The four had immediately stopped when they noticed this girl. She got on her feet, extending her hand. "I'm Courtney Johnson," she said. "I'm kind of the girl that just got you out of prison."

The four continued to stare at the girl. She was bloody as hell, though it was probably just dry blood, and she had multiple bruises, gashes, and her arm was bandaged. "I'm the girl at the restraunt who actually survived and saw that you guys didn't kill all of those people?" they didn't even move. "Seriously, if you guys are just gonna stare at me, why did I bail you out?" she asked. Suddenly, they all snapped out of their trances and shook her hand.

"Listen, you have no idea how thankful we are for this," Frank said, shaking Courtney's hand.

"Yeah, I saw Blondie and Carrot Top being forced to do... push-ups back there? I supposed you would be thankful. And maybe this injustice needed to be fixed," she muttered the last part of her sentence.

"Carrot Top?" Gerard asked, playing with his dyed orange hair. "It's not that obnoxious or bright. Right?" he asked the guys. They all shook their heads and looked at Courtney, giving her an annoyed look.

"Sorry, sorry, my family comes from making fun of people, I've just been around them a little much lately. You're hair looks fine, dude, I swear. Well, go, leave. We'll never see each other again, anyway," she began walking to the door. Just when she opened it, Mikey stopped her.

"Wait!" he called. She immediately came to a halt. She turned around, facing the four men. "To repay you for bailing the guys and I out, how about you go on tour with us?" he turned to the others, who looked both displeased and appeased with this idea.

Courtney's eyes widened. "You can't be serious, right?" she asked. She was in an absolute state of shock. She had always thought that she was Kentucky bound, never in a million years did she guess she would be given the opportunity to go on tour with My Chemical Romance, who was secretly -- at least she would like to think it was a secret -- her favorite band. They all shook their heads. "I... How am I supposed to say no?" she chuckled.

The four men smiled. "You're gonna have a blast," Gerard said as they walked out of the police station. "I promise.



A/N: So, how is it? If there are any mistakes, I'm sorry, I was typing way too fast!