FicWad

Rev. Reverend went into the dark alley and found the body laying there. Silent and stone faced, he placed two coins over its eyes and made the sign of the cross over it.

Suddenly, the body's eyes flickered open and it sat up.

The reverend jumped back and clutched his heart. "Holy Mary, Mother of Jesus!" he blurted. "Joe, are you okay?" he asked, touching his shoulder.

Joe fought with him for a second until he realized who it was. "Where is everyone?" he snapped, standing up with a wince.

The holy man's eyes were downcast. "They were arrested."

"Where?" he barked, looking around for his gun.

"The county jail," the reverend replied, getting fed up with Joe's attitude.

Joe gave up looking for is guy and straightened his jacket. "Let's go. Where'd my car go?"

The reverend gave Joe a pissed off look. "You left the keys in it again. It was stolen."

"Crap."

Meanwhile...

"Let me out!" Pete whined pathetically, griping the bars to the cell he was sharing with Patrick, Andy, a creepy gothic kid and a fat motorcycle gang member.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" the motorcycle dude (I think his name was "Hunky") groaned. "They're not letting us out."

"But... but I'm Pete WENTZ! I CAN'T be in JAIL!"

"Why aren't I dead yet?" the gothic kid, his name was Jacob, asked.

"Jesus loves you," Pete told him.

"I hate you. Children of Bodom is my favorite band."

"OoOo. Burn." Pete replied sarcastically rolling his eyes and turning back to the door. "You know whose fault this is?"

"Whose?" Patrick asked in monotone.

"Joe's. If he didn't drive like an old lady, we would've made it there before all the British vamps showed up and we would've been able to save Dirty."

"Leave Joe out of this," Andy said quietly, looking at the ground and tightening the muscles in his jaw. "We don't even know where he is."

"He's probably dead like my Dirty," Pete said, getting a far away look in his eyes. A single tear ran down his face and burned him. "Ow," he hissed slapping his cheek. "Damnit. I forgot. Vampires can't cry."

"Lucky bastard," Jacob mumbled. "I wish I would die."

"We know!" the rest of the cell yelled.

Patrick rolled his eyes and studied his hands. "Shut up, Pete. You know you'd miss Joe."

Pete turned around and glared at Patrick. "No I wouldn't!" he spat, fangs and spit flying, "I don't even know why he's in Fall Out Boy!"

Patrick gave him a hurt look.

Pete flinched and blinked, making his face soften slightly, "Damnit Pat. Last time you looked at me like that, Andy happened."

Patrick sighed and went back to studying his hands.

Flashback...

Patrick was sitting on Pete's bed, giving him a hurt look.

Pete sighed and softened his face. "Fine, we can adopt Andy."

End flashback...

Pete went back to looking out the bars. "We have to get out of here."

"How the hell do you propose we do that?" Hunky grunted. "Your 'get out of jail free' card?"

"No, I'll flirt our way out!" Pete replied.

"That won't work," Jacob pointed out. "The police hate people like us. That's why we're in here."

Pete grinned awkwardly, his fangs sticking out. "But I'm still pretty!"

"You have a better chance of being raped by Hunky."

Hunky grinned knowingly.

Pete panicked, but instead of doing what he wanted, screaming to be put in another cell, he put on the sexiest face he could muster and nodded to one of the guards who were sitting around playing cards. "Hey, come over here," he said in a soft, seductive voice.

All three guards looked up, confused, then laughed. "Are you trying to flirt your way out?" the one Pete was attempting to seduce asked.

Pete started to waver, "What would give you that idea?"

"I'll give you some advice," the guard admitted. "You look stupid." The guards shook their heads and laughed, then went back to their cards.

Jacob gave Pete a look. "See, told you it wouldn't work."

Pete growled, threw Jacob on his back and killed him with his little "scorching hand" move. Almost instantaneously, all the guards were surrounding him, but he was able to fight them off easily this time, because, well, he WAS Pete after all. With in minutes, Pete, Andy and Patrick were out of their cell and the three guards were in their place. Pete brushed his hands off. "Okay, let's go find Joe." They headed out the front door.

"Don't worry guys! I'll save you!" Joe yelled running to them from the road. He ran into his other band mates. "Crap."

"Hey, you're not dead!" Andy pointed out.

"Come on, we got to get back to the warehouse to get some supplies. Where's my Clandestine-mobile?"

Joe looked down at his feet, ashamed.

Pete glared at him, his eyes burning. "You left the keys in it again. Didn't you?"

Joe smiled quickly, but kept his head down as he let it fall just as fast.

Pete turned and walked away. "You call yourselves hunters?" he growled.

Andy frowned as the other three hurried to follow him. "Well, that's what you get when your band mates aren't as cool as you!"

They started hiking across town to their "base", keeping a look out for the bad guys. Andy started to notice Patrick grabbing his arm.

Standing in front of their front door, Andy decided to ask, "What's wrong with your arm? You look pale."

"It's just sore," he exclaimed and smiled weakly. "I'm fine."

Pete perked up from trying to open the door and glanced at him.

"Here, let me see it," Andy said, took Patrick's arm and pulled his sleeve back.

Pete's eyes widened as he stared at the apparent fang marks just about his wrist. He pushed the door open. "Come on," he said gravely, "Just grab what you need. We don't have much time."

"Is Patrick going to be okay?" Andy asked, rolling his sleeve back down.

"Yeah. He just needs to rest," Pete admitted, heading straight for the kitchen to make one of Patrick's "bloody" Maries and to gather the ingredients. When he got to add the "nail polish," he looked around, took a swig straight from the bottle, added some to his drink, and tossed it into his backpack.

Patrick grabbed a couple unfinished projects. "Joe, you wouldn't happen to still have your gun on you?"

Joe shook his head as he strapped his guitar to his back. "What happened to yours?"

"Police took it."

Andy dug under his mattress and smiled when he pulled out his extra sword. He swung it around so he could hear the "swish"-ing sound, but Pete grabbed it mid swing.

"Are we ready?" he asked.

"Hey, where's the dog?" Patrick asked and whistled. He frowned. "Pete, why's your backpack barking?"

Pete bit his bottom lip. "Can't we bring him?"

Patrick sighed. "We'll drop him off with the reverend."

Pete sniffed and took his puppy out of his backpack as they headed out.